The 66th Hunger Games
by Jabberings
Summary: 'Look at us-we're a joke. My face is soft and forgettable, not the face of any killer. I'm not fierce, I'm not a threat. We're doomed.'  A girl from District 8 battles it out in the deadliest process imaginable. Can she win-and, does she want to?
1. The Reaping

_Author's Note: Okay, so this is basically a story idea I came up with while I was thinking of AU ideas for the Hunger Games. I realized it was different enough to warrant entirely new characters, so I decided to use a past game to tell my own story. I have not read any stories like this one but I know there are them, so if there are any similarities I can assure you they are pure coincidence. I'm going to strive to make this as accurate as possible in relation to the process described in the books, but just to warn you that if I think accuracy interferes with how I want the story to go then I'm probably going to alter a few things. Also, I started to write this in third person before deciding to change, so while I think I altered all the tenses to make them correct I apologize if there's a mistake or two. Everything should be fine after the first couple of paragraphs :)  
>I'm writing this pretty quickly at the moment and hopefully that won't change, but any reviews and comments will definitely motivate me so if you have any I'd love to hear them. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy<em>

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><p>Reaping Day.<p>

I still marvel at the fear those words bring to me. I don't think of myself as a particularly timid person, but I'm not ashamed to admit that every time this day comes around I am gripped with unimaginable terror. Who wouldn't be? With the possible exception of the Career districts and of course the Capitol, I doubt anyone actually looks forward to it.

I can remember dreading this day since the age of five, when my oldest brother became eligible for the reaping. That fear continued, magnifying at the age of eight when it was my sister's turn, and then yet again when I turned eleven. That time my fear was not due to a sibling though. My friend Blaze (so named for his shock of red hair, which he had apparently had even as an infant) was one year older than me. I barely slept the night before his first reaping.

And then, of course, it was my turn. Fortunately with two older siblings I'd had no need for tesserae. Even so I could remember being so scared I was shaking, every time the date rolled around again. Now I've survived four times I like to think my fear has diminished a little, but I doubt that's true. Yesterday my hand shook so bad that I'd barely been able to sew up the uniform I was making. If Blaze hadn't have helped me then I might have even been beaten for it.

At least we got the day off today. As if that was any comfort. All of us trot into the square, like prize pigs ready for slaughter. I suppose that's all we are really. Blaze grins at me through the crowd, giving me a hearty thumbs up. I roll my eyes back. He can be such an idiot at times. My heart is thumping, impossibly fast. Five times. My name is in there five times. In relation to the crowd it seems like a small number, but I know better. Five is plenty enough to get picked.

_Don't be so selfish _I scold, throwing another glance towards Blaze. He has no older siblings, only a younger sister who has just turned six. He's worked at the factory for almost seven years now, but his meagre pay isn't enough to feed a household. With those tesserae marks against him, his name is in the drawing thirty times. I would never understand why there was a smile on his face.

He is the only one smiling. Well, almost the only one. Adora, our escort, has her bright red lips grimaced into a cheesy grin. Adora has looked the same for at least the last ten years, and I'm willing to bet she has looked that way for a lot longer. Her face is smooth as silk, covered with a kind of red glitter that makes it look like she's been splattered with blood. Her dress is of a similar shade, and she's wearing impossibly tall heels. I glance down at my own worn shoes-they are leather and of good quality, but I'd outgrown them about three years ago. As a result my toes are squashed painfully against the sides. Most of the time I go barefoot, but my mother wouldn't dream of letting me do that on the Reaping Day. It's the same reason I am wearing my only silk dress. I love this dress to pieces-my mother made it one day out of some fabric which was meant to be thrown away as waste. It was intended to be pure white but there were some grey flecks all over one side, which apparently ruined the effect. My mother salvaged it, cutting it up and transforming it into a beautiful dress for me. All the grey flecks are on the inside, so I never even minded about them. I'd wear it every day if I could, but this place is so filthy I daren't. Instead it takes pride of place in my cupboard, coming out once a year on the Reaping Day.

As far as districts go, we're all looking pretty good. We may be one of the poorer districts but since we run the textile factories the one thing we're never short of is clothes. It's lucky too-even in summer this place remains cold, the tall factory chimneys blocking out most of the light. I love the sunshine so much. I can't help but be envious of places like Districts Four and Eleven, who get to see the sun all year long. My skin is so pasty and drab that I suddenly worry the white dress makes me look washed out. Nervously I pluck at a strand of my hair, the same colour and texture as straw.

The crowds fall quiet as the last of the children traipse miserably in. We're all ranked by age, the youngest at the front and the oldest at the back. That way the younger children get a better view of their friends being dragged off to their deaths. I shiver, wishing I had brought my old coat. Our reaping is taking place at early afternoon. I can just see the rays of sunshine straining to break through the wall of grey buildings. Closing my eyes, I imagine I am far away from here in a sunnier district. It's a pleasant thought. I almost don't notice that the reaping's begun.

"…and now for the first tribute!" I tune out most of what Adora says, having heard it for the last four years. She does the same flourishes, gives the same speech every year like an automated machine. I pay attention when her hand goes towards the bowl though, amplified by the large screen behind her.

_Everyone is watching this moment _I think, heartbeat louder than ever _And everyone is wishing it wasn't them_.

Red talons grab a bit of paper, almost spearing it through. She drags it out and unfolds it, relishing the name with inhuman delight.

"Our female tribute…" she smiles, and in the shade her teeth look almost as red as her lips, "Taci Twyla!" I freeze, as those closest to me turn to look. That's my name. That's me. For the longest time I just stand there, unable to comprehend what has happened. No, it can't be. Not _me_. I always feared it but it wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be something abstract, like being afraid that the textiles factory might suddenly explode or someone might claim you're a traitor. I was never supposed to actually be picked.

Someone gives me a shove, and then my feet are moving of their own accord. The crowd parts, each face turning to stare at me. Some are sympathetic, most are relieved. I can hardly blame them. I know which emotion I would pick if it had been someone else who was chosen. Adora is gesturing at me proudly, like a mother encouraging a baby to take their first steps.

"Yes, come on darling, up you come! Isn't this exciting?" When I reach the stage she yanks me close, red nails digging into my arm. I scan the crowd, feeling lost. There's my mother, her mouth open in shock. There's my brother and his wife, clutching their baby as if she was about to be snatched. I can't see my sister. Of course not-she died a while back. But in my panic I forget that. I look around frantically, trying to see her. Instead my gaze settles on Blaze.

His expression is unreadable.

"And now for our male tribute!" Adora shoves me to one side, my ten seconds in the spotlight over. Now I'm closer I can see her eyes are red too, what I hope are contacts. You can never be too sure when it comes to Capitol people. She approaches the other bowl now, her heels making a fierce click like a sewing machine on full pelt. She is almost there when a voice speaks up.

"I volunteer!" It is a deep voice, one I know well. Once more people turned round, this time with tones of excitement. A volunteer? This never happens. Not here. We're not Careers, we're not trained. All most of us can do is sew, and you can't kill someone with a needle. But this time it has happened. I shut my eyes, knowing already who the voice belongs to long before the boy steps forward.

"And what's your name?" Adora shouts, her voice so full of glee I'm afraid she might spontaneously burst in a splatter of red.

"Blaze," he speaks up, and I'm forced to open my eyes, "Blaze Fuller."


	2. Goodbye

My heart plummets. Blaze is looking straight at me, those green eyes burning with intensity even from a distance. I'm shaking my head but he's ignoring me, stepping up onto the platform. Adora looks so happy she is positively glowing.

"Well bravo Blaze! District Eight-I give you your tributes! A big cheer please for Taci Twyla and Blaze Fuller!" The crowd claps, out of necessity more than anything else. You can tell the mood has changed. No one is sure quite how to react to Blaze volunteering. Least of all me.

I don't know what he's doing. He's certainly no fighter. I've known him since I was six years old and I've never seen him harm so much as a fly. Standing next to someone like Adora, it only emphasizes how skinny and lanky he is. He looks ridiculous in his suit, a garment which is at least two sizes too big for him. His dad passed it down to him, hoping he would grow into it. He didn't. If anything he only got skinnier.

I can't see the screen behind our heads but I know we must be on it. What will the other tributes think? They'll be laughing for sure. Look at us-we're a joke. I'm not actually that badly fed but I'm short, only about five foot four. My face is soft and forgettable, not the face of any killer. I press my feet against the sides of my shoes, wishing I was anywhere but here right now. They'll be laughing at Blaze too. I've seen the boys from the other districts in previous years. They're usually fierce, built like mountains and trained to kill. The girls are just as bad. I'm not fierce, I'm not threatening in any way.

We're doomed.

We stand like statues on the stage as the anthem plays. Adora stands for a few minutes longer, until she is absolutely sure that we are no longer being broadcast. Only then are we allowed to move, swept off stage by another one of her dramatic flourishes.

"My my, you did cause some excitement! In all my years working here I have never seen a volunteer. What permitted you to do it?" She blinks at him expectantly, red eyes even scarier back stage. Blaze doesn't answer. Instead he stares blankly ahead, as if only just realizing what he's done.

Adora waits a moment or two more. When it becomes apparent he's not going to answer she sniffs and turns away, muttering something about 'seamstress' manners'. I don't bother to point out that as a boy, he could never be a seamstress. Instead I turn to Blaze, fixing him with an angry glare.

"What in Panem was that?" He looks at me, green eyes sullen.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do! You volunteered! Are you insane? You've sentenced yourself to death!" I expect a protest of some sort but he remains silent again. This is starting to infuriate me.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" I cross my arms defiantly. Eventually he shrugs, the smallest of gestures. Confusion grips me again. We aren't like this. Blaze tells me everything. I've never known him to be silent for so long. In some ways that's the most unnerving thing of all.

Finally he speaks, a mumble so inaudible I don't even catch a single word.

"What was that?"

"I said 'I did it for you'." His words catch me off guard. My stern expression falters, replaced with uncertainty.

"Excuse me?" He looks nervous all of a sudden, playing with his ginger hair. I hate it when he does that. It makes it stick up like a bushfire. I fight the urge to flatten it again, like I've done so many times before.

"Look…I just saw you up there and I panicked alright? I know how much the thought of being picked scares you and I…I just wanted to help." My mouth drops open in disbelief. Is he kidding me with this stuff?

"How in the world would volunteering possibly help? You do understand what this is don't you? We're going to die. Both of us. You've put yourself forward for suicide."

"Not necessarily." He insists, and I see a hint of the true Blaze again. It doesn't exactly bring me any comfort though.

"For you to win then I have to die," My voice trembles at the words, and I curse myself. What kind of an impression do I hope to make on the other tributes if I can't even keep my emotions in check around my best friend? "That's how it works."

"I know," he spoke quietly, "But I'm not going to win. You are." His words fill me with so much anger it's all I can do not to slap him.

"You have actually lost your mind. We're District Eight Blaze. We don't win. Especially not me."

"But you could!" he pleaded, grabbing my hand suddenly, "Don't you see? That's why I did it. I have to help you. Because you have to win. I'm not…I'm not about to let you…" He trailed off, eyes darting to the floor. I don't ask him to finish. I'm far too stunned to want to hear the end. The full force of what he's saying hits me. He volunteered for the sole purpose of protecting me. He wants to die for me.

I don't know whether to hug him or slap him.

"You've ruined everything." I mutter quietly, wrenching my hand away from his. It feels too warm all of a sudden, stifling almost. Those green eyes gaze at me like a wounded puppy. I want to say more but I'm too late. Our families are here. It's time to say goodbye.

Three minutes. That's all we get. Three minutes to leave our entire lives behind. In the short journey from the square to the main building I try to plan what I'm going to say. Nothing springs to mind. All I can think about is Blaze, what a stupid mistake he's made. The Peacekeepers come in a white swarm, guarding us like vicious dogs. If they weren't there then maybe he could run away. Yeah right-he wouldn't last five minutes. He'd be gunned down and then there really would be no point to him volunteering. Still, I clutch on to the thought that there might be some way to save him.

Another oddity springs to mind. Our mentor was not there to greet us. I conjure up a memory of Woof, the usual mentor. He has never been missing any previous years. I take that as another sign that we're doomed. Not even our mentor thinks it's worthwhile to show up.

Blaze and I are separated once we reach the main building, pushed into different rooms. That suits me just fine. I'm angry with myself for thinking about him so much. I only have a limited time to say goodbye to my family forever, and I don't even know what I'm going to say. I have a few minutes to mull it over before they arrive. My mother has been crying, big tear streaks down her cheeks. I hug her almost immediately, playing with a strand of her curly blonde hair like I did when I was little. I say vague statements of comfort, trying my best to be reassuring. It doesn't seem to work. I have to wrench her off me eventually.

"You be careful." My brother speaks up. He's not crying but he's more serious than I've ever seen him before. He offers me his hand and I shake it, bemused by the gesture. Even on my deathbed he refuses to hug me. Then again, we've never been that close. Due to the age gap I hardly got to see him. I was closer to my sister, before she died. That hit me hard. Not the Hunger Games though-at least she wasn't a victim of them. No, it was a factory accident that claimed her. One of the dyeing machines just malfunctioned one day, and we lost a whole factory due to it. Many of us lost more than that. The Peacekeepers seemed to blame us for it, as if we did it deliberately. Ever since then it's been harder to find a place which doesn't have them posted around.

"I will be." I smile, unsure what else to do. Then his baby begins to cry and the attention is drawn back to her. I feel a stab of sorrow-I will never get to see her grow up now. Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise. I will never find out if she is picked for this process. Still, I would have liked to live long enough to know what hair colour she had at least. Blaze and I had bets on whether she would be blonde like my brother or dark-haired like his wife.

The three minutes is up far too quickly. My family is dragged away, leaving me with a sense of unfinished business. There was so much I should have said, things I should have warned or reminded them about. Too late now. I lean patiently against the wall, waiting to be called out again. It's a nice room, far nicer than the dirty exterior would suggest. Everywhere in District Eight is dirty though. It's almost ironic that they would choose to manufacture the clean, white Peacekeeper uniforms here. I think about my life, how short it seems now. Days filled with nothing but school and factory work, an endless grey cycle. No, that's not true. I actually enjoy factory work. It's monotonous but it's easy, and I love learning all the different skills. I'm often praised on my sewing, on my ability to make fabrics and flawless ribbons. Like that will help me in the arena. I rack my brain desperately, trying to think of anything which might be of some use to me. I have no knowledge of plants (like there are any around here anyway) I don't think I have ever even held a weapon. I have basic survival skills but they're weak at best. I'm not strong or gifted at anything really. I am smart though, or at least, I used to be. Back when I attended school I was top of the class. But cleverness alone is not enough to win the Hunger Games. And there are likely others who are far cleverer than me.

My thoughts are interrupted by the return of the Peacekeeper. He rounds up me and Blaze, ready to take us to the train which will take us to the Capitol. I try to muster up some excitement but I can't. Only the possibility of food makes me any happier. Then I think of Adora again, and the smallest smile crosses my face. That's not entirely true. I can look forward to seeing the outfits. I know most districts hold the view that the Capitol fashions are utterly ridiculous, but they always held a sort of charm for me. Perhaps it was the fact I could finally see what all the fabrics we made were used for. Even the worst displays of fashion were crafted out of beautiful cloths, had some shred of glamour about them.

It wasn't much of a plus point but I clung to it anyway. My mother always liked to see the Capitol fashions each year. It was somewhat of a tradition in our house to pick our favourites, try and think of ways we would have improved them had we had any choice ourselves. I suppose this year she'd have to do it alone.

I ignored Blaze as we got on the train. I wasn't ready to speak to him yet. I did take a quick peek at him though, noticing his hair was more messed up than ever. His eyes almost looked watery too, although I couldn't believe he had actually been crying. They were almost as red as his hair.

_Good _I thought stubbornly, turning away _Serves him right_


	3. Train Journey

The train was sleek and beautiful, a thousand times more elegant than anything found in our district. It was the inside that fascinated me most though, the plush mix of fabrics and textures which made it so luxurious. Adora was there, spread out on a couch which was a darker shade of her dress. She greeted us with another blood-red smile, still as excited as before.

"Welcome, welcome! Oh, this must all be so wonderful for you! I can't _imagine_ what's going through your minds right now." Stifling a smile, I take a seat. We must seem like orphaned puppies to her, poor little things which have been deprived of everything.

"I expect you must be wondering where your mentors are. Well sadly, Woof has stepped down this year-"

"Stepped down?" Blaze frowns, speaking up. I know what he's thinking. Mentors aren't allowed to just 'step down'. They either die or are forcibly removed.

Adora wrinkles her nose, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.

"He's ill actually. Unable to mentor you this year. Don't worry though! A skilled replacement has kindly stepped in to take on the duty of mentoring you."

"I was forced to you mean." The voice startles me. I realize with a jolt that someone has been standing in the doorway all this time, blended with the shadows. That only makes me feel worse. If any of the other tributes are stealthy then they might as well kill me right now.

The figure steps out of the shadows, fixing us both with a curious look. She's tall, almost as tall as Adora but at least half as skinny. Her expression is cold, calculating. She's looking at us like we're pieces of meat. Subconsciously I sit up a little straighter in my seat.

"Are these this year's tributes? Pity." She sniffs, taking a seat next to Adora. I can't help but stare at her. Her outfit it truly mesmerizing. She's also wearing a dress, but it's a sleeker, sharper affair than the one Adora has on. Half the dress has been dyed a deep midnight black, shimmering with a faint glow. The other side is a pure white which makes my own dress look like a filthy grey. It's made out of silk and shines beautifully as she strides towards us. Every part of her is similarly divided. Her lips are painted half black, half white, her eyes and even her hair are dyed with the same colour scheme. The effect is daunting. She looks like a beautiful statue.

"The boy volunteered." Adora offers up, as if in a weak attempt at defending us. The woman fixes her gaze on him, looking vaguely amused.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he agrees, looking just as taken with her as I am, "But I can tell you now that I'm not going to win. She is." He points at me with a defiant finger. To my surprise the woman laughs, a proper laugh which sends her dress shaking.

"Ah, so this was a gesture of love was it? How sweet," Her voice suggests it's anything but. Slowly, she turns to look at me, "And what would your name be?"

"Taci," I mutter, self-consciously stroking my own dress, "But I'm not going to win either."

"What eager champions we have this year!" She snorts, lazily lying back in her chair. She has such confidence I can't help but be intimidated by her. Still, her sarcasm offends me.

"Well I'm not! Tributes from our district never win. As far as I'm concerned the most I can try to do is die with a bit of dignity."

"I won." She says simply, and there's no hint of pride in her statement. It throws me a little, although obviously she had won since she is sat here.

"Yes but…I bet you were a fighter. Or at least trained in some kind of weapon. I'm not you know. Not even a little bit." Her expression doesn't change in the slightest. She's looking at me like I'm some kind of ignorant child.

"Neither was I," she leans forward suddenly, eyes fixed on me. I do my best to return her gaze, steadily refusing to look down, "You want to know how you can win? Be ruthless. Really ruthless. Let him die for you if he wants. Because honey, you might just need his protection." She leans back, a victor's smile on her face. I'm not about to give in that easily though.

"Is that what you did? Let people die for you?" Her gaze falters, only briefly but it's enough to give me hope.

"No. I was ruthless though. And smart. I used my talents like you're going to have to use yours." I go to protest again, then decide it isn't worth it. She can insists all she likes that I'm not useless, but I know full well I am. I begin to wish that I had tried just a little bit harder in school. We don't offer the same kind of training that the Career districts do, but they at least covered basic combat and weapon-use. I never really paid attention, far too interested in other things. Because of that I'm doomed to die now, and Blaze is going to be taken down with me.

Blaze. He hasn't given up on me yet.

"She's smart. Really smart." He insists, and I can hear him getting worked up. He's always been so protective of me. I should have known it would get him into trouble someday.

"Good. She's going to need to be. Can you sew?" It takes me a minute to realize she's addressing me again. I scowl, not impressed by her attitude.

"Of course I can. I'm not a moron."

"No, can you sew _well_?"

"She's brilliant," Blaze insists, "Good at sewing. Great at making ribbons and baskets and things. She's really quick with her hands." I give him a 'shut up' look, but he only grins back.

"What? It's true."

"But it's not relevant." I glare.

"Don't be so sure of that," The woman speaks again, and this time her smile is thoughtful. I turn to her, confused, "You ever heard of snares kid? A good snare won't just get one victim, you can catch a whole bunch. And never underestimate the benefit of camouflage." She sounds genuine but I'm not convinced. Still scowling, I mutter angrily.

"Great. So I'm hiding like a scared rabbit all the time."

"Yes. But it's better than nothing." Silence falls. With it my hostility starts to ebb away. Can she be right? It's hard to believe a skill as harmless as basket weaving will be of any use to me outside factory work. And yet, the snare idea has intrigued me. Once or twice tributes have won using them. It's not common but it's not unheard of either.

"What's your name by the way?" Blaze asks, bolder than me. The woman licks her lips, allowing me to see that even her tongue is painted black and white.

"Sirena." She says simply. It doesn't ring a bell. That's rare-I would have thought we'd have heard of most victors in a district as unlikely to win as ours. Then again, the only one I can really name is Woof. Certainly no one has won in the years since I started to watch it.

I glance at Sirena hopefully. She's clearly as reluctant as I am to be here, but there's something about her which gives me a tiny ray of hope. Maybe she can help me save Blaze. The chances are slim but there has to be a chance.

After a while Adora rings a bell and the food is summoned. It is beautiful, more wonderful than I could have ever hoped for. Blaze and I begin to stuff our faces greedily, so hungry that I barely pay attention to what I am putting into my mouth. Throughout the feast I keep my eyes fixed on Sirena though. She doesn't eat so much as one morsel, staring out the window like she was in an entirely other world.

It doesn't put me off. Most mentors are like that. I try not to think of the reasons why. If I'm going to help Blaze win the games, I have to believe that he'll still be himself afterwards. That they won't break him. If I can believe that then I'll die gladly.

I don't want to lose him either way

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><p><em>Author's Note:<em>_ I made up my own mentor since I want to include as few characters from the books as possible in this. Sorry if anyone was hoping to see Woof or Cecelia. Also, I know there's supposed to be two mentors but I decided to focus on one character rather than try and cram in two. Again, apologies if this disappoints anyone. As always feedback is welcomed and I will strive to reply to every review I receive. Thanks again_


	4. My Stylist

The train ride is long, strenuous. To my horror, I fall asleep. When I wake up we have reached the Capitol, and I have missed my chance to make a worthwhile impression. I have no doubts that the cameras caught me sleeping. Now the other tributes really will think I'm a pushover.

As I stumble dozily off the train, I am assaulted with the view of a tremendous skyscraper. The Training Center. I recognize it from previous years, its formidable shape instilling fear into me once again. Then I remember that I am most likely being filmed for all of Panem to see, and I quickly try to alter my expression. Unable to look terrifying or tough, I instead settle on thoughtful. I try to look around as if I am scanning my surroundings, taking in every little detail instead of simply being overwhelmed.

Blaze's angle is easy. He's gone for amazed, as if he's happy to be here. When he sees the crowd he waves joyfully, acting like there was nowhere else he'd rather be. I find the crowd daunting, alarmingly so. I try to focus on their outfits but there are so many it doesn't work. I'm grateful once we are safe inside.

My gratitude doesn't last long. Once more I am ripped away from Blaze, only this time I do mind. Even though I know where I am going I still feel afraid. Meeting my stylists is a big step. In my little white dress I hardly feel prepared.

The next hour passes in a blur. I am stripped, showered and shaved, my skin rubbed so raw I feel more like a piece of meat than a human. I marvel at how clean I can be, realizing just how big an effect the city dirt has had on me. They have to rip my white dress from my hands, and despite my protests I doubt they will give it back to me. It's more emotional attachment than anything else but it still hurts. Apart from Blaze, it was the last thing I had from my district.

Another thought hits me. I don't have a token. For some reason this upsets me more than it should. I feel like I have lost everything, anything important relating to my home. When my stylist enters I am crying, a naked heap on the floor. I don't think they could have been more startled if I was standing on my head.

I glance up miserably at them, seeing a pretty wide-eyed woman staring back. To my surprise she looks fairly normal. Her hair is dyed an apple green but it hang straight and flat, unlike most of the Capitol residents' crazy styles. She wears a simple dark green tunic with a belt, and has on patterned green tights and some of the highest shoes I have ever seen. Her eye shadow and lipstick match her hair perfectly.

She gazes at me for a minute or two, not moving or speaking a word. Then, finally, she gently grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet.

"There," she speaks, and her voice is the softest thing I've ever heard, "That's no way for a victor to act is it?"

"I'm not a victor." I manage to splutter through my tears, although I have quietened considerably since she came in. It's her voice really. If I cry loudly then I'm afraid I might not be able to hear her properly.

"Aren't you?" she smiles then, a sweet smile. I have to fight the urge to avoid smiling back, "Well, maybe not. But it's my job to try and make you one, and if you cry then it's going to be ten times harder. Why are you crying anyway?" It's potentially the stupidest question I've ever heard. Still, I remember that most Capitol residents think it's an honour to be picked for these games. They don't understand properly. Sniffing, I do my best to answer her question without any sarcasm.

"I've forgotten my token." I reply, deciding it's a far simpler answer than 'I'm going to die' or 'My best friend is an idiot'. She tilts her head sympathetically, her green hair a shimmering curtain.

"I'm sure I can do something about that." Turning away, I watch as she reaches into a drawer. She's distracted me enough for my tears to stop, although I still feel miserable. When she turns back round I notice that she's holding a beautiful silk ribbon. It's at least half a metre long and has been dyed every colour of the rainbow, each shade blending into the next. It's coated in some kind of pale glitter which makes it look like it's shining in non-existent moonlight.

"Here," she shows it to me tentatively, the ribbon bright against her dark skin, "This is from your district. You can have it if you like." I blink at it wordlessly, as if expecting the precious thing to vanish. Eventually I take it from her, still speechless. It's even prettier close up.

"Thank you." I mutter, unable to convey my gratitude. She smiles a lovely smile and that's when I make up my mind to trust her one hundred percent.

"No problem. Now, let me have a look at you." She spins me round, studying me closely. I feel somewhat self-conscious so I occupy myself with my new ribbon. I've never seen any like it in my district, but it's made out of the same strong material that all our ribbons are. I'm sure I could tug it with all of my might and it wouldn't snap. When my stylist has finished she nods, as if satisfied.

"Yes, I'm sure I can work with you. I'm Auriel by the way. You might have guessed that this is my first year on the job. I'm determined to make an impression."

"Suits me," I grin, then a thought strikes me. Hesitantly, I continue, "Are you working on my district partner too?"

"Partially. You're my main focus though. Ovid will be working on him."

"Could you save your best ideas for him please?" I can tell I've surprised her. Quickly, I try to explain myself, "He volunteered to help me you see and…I really want him to go home."

"I see," her voice is even quieter now, thoughtful, "That's awfully brave of him. And brave of you to ask me that. I shall do my best."

"Thank you." I smile, feeling a bit better. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

We chat for a while, empty talk while she sorts me out. She's quite keen to ask about my dress, humble though it seems to me now. I gladly tell her about my mother making it, describing how we all make clothes out of the scraps of fabric we can find.

"That's a useful skill." She smiles at me, without a hint of sarcasm. I smile back but inside I'm doubtful. Finally she dismisses me, having dressed me in a pretty purple top and plain black pants.

"I'll get planning your chariot outfit." She calls to me as I am leaving, reminding me of yet another terrifying tradition I have to endure. On the plus side the chariot ride is when I'll first be able to get a good look at the other tributes. I can't help but feel curious despite my nerves.

_Maybe I can watch the other reapings later _I think hopefully. I want to know as much as I can about my opponents. It's the only way either of us are going to stand a chance. I can guess already that they'll be bigger than me, and better trained too no doubt.

_Let the games begin _I think with a sigh, my stomach lurching. If only they would never start at all


	5. Dinner and an Ugly Truth

Unfortunately, I have one more task before I am permitted to rest for the night. Dinner with Adora and Sirena is not exactly what I would most like to do right now, but there are plenty of worse things that could happen. Avox servants guide me to the dining room, a cosy little place which is small by Capitol standards but still appears bigger than my entire house was back in District Eight. I sit down at the splendid wooden table, feeing very much out of place. I am the last to arrive. Blaze greets me with a smile, looking suitably clean and tidy. He's wearing a plain green top and smart black pants, both of which only accentuate his bright hair.

"Didn't they fix your hair?" I blurt out before I can stop myself, forgetting my resolve to stay mad at him. It's still sticking up on end like he's been electrocuted or something. Grin widening, he shook his head.

"Nope. Ovid liked it. He said it made me distinctive."

"You've got that right." I mutter, taking my place. Once more the table is laden with food, more than I've ever seen before in my life. I immediately help myself to a round yellow fruit which turns out to be the sweetest thing I have ever eaten. In District Eight we don't get access to much fruit. Come to think of it, we don't get access to much of anything except for grain and bread. Meat is rare, excluding the occasional pigeon roast. They don't taste all too great though and are tough to catch, so we tend not to eat them often.

Adora watches me eating with vague disdain. I ignore her, reaching greedily for more fruit. Blaze's plate is also piled high, but once more Sirena seems to be abstaining from food. No wonder she's so skinny if she never eats. She is drinking though, a thick black liquid which looks like tar. Seeing me looking, she swirls it at me with a smile.

"Want some? It's good."

"No thank you." I refuse politely, thinking that if I drank that I'd probably be dead by tomorrow. She shrugs and sips it herself, swallowing the gloopy mess in one go.

"Right, now to business. I've been watching the tapes of your arrival. We need to decide how you're going to play this." I should have known this was coming. Feeling uncomfortable, I shrug and help myself to more food. This time I pick a slice of pink meat which is a million miles away from tough pigeon breast.

"I was just going to continue being friendly." Blaze also shrugs, sounding more earnest than me. Sirena nods, studying him carefully.

"Yes, that works well for you. You'll already have their attention due to you volunteering. Now you just have to maintain it. But what about you Taci? Your entrance was terrible." I blush, surprised by how much her criticism stings. I suppose I'm not used to it though.

"I have no strategy." I say simply, deciding the truth is probably best. Sadly this isn't good enough for her.

"Well you'll need one. Like I said, you need to be ruthless. I don't know if I can make that angle work for you though. Blaze, what do you think?" Her bringing him into this surprises me, but I suppose it's only to be expected. He does know me best after all. He drops the drumstick he's been eating in shock, but quickly composes himself. I feel his green eyes on me like he's judging me.

"I don't know. Taci's definitely not ruthless. She's just sort of…sweet." I hear Sirena groan in despair.

"Sweet won't win the Hunger Games! What else can you give me?"

"Well she's clever…creative…pretty." He blushes at that last one, glancing back down at his meal. I feel myself blush also, though I try desperately to pretend he hasn't said it. Sirena certainly kills the mood, rolling her eyes grumpily.

"None of those things help. Except…could you be cunning?" She's asking herself more than me, but I answer anyway.

"I think so. Maybe."

"No room for maybes here honey. Yes, I think I might be able to sell you as that. Just act smart. Try not to talk to anyone-we don't want to ruin that impression of you. Smart and mysterious…act distant from everyone. Especially him." She points at Blaze with a fierce finger. Blaze frowns, shaking his head.

"She can't do that. We're going to be allies."

"Allies?" Sirena and I exclaim simultaneously. Blaze gives me a hurt look while I squirm awkwardly in my chair. For some reason I didn't expect this. It makes perfect sense of course-we're old friends, he came in here to protect me; of course he's going to want to be allies. I find the thought comforting at first. With Blaze around I can watch his back, don't have to work quite so hard to stay alive. But then I think of previous years, of the problems alliances cause. The thing with having allies is that at some point you have to go your separate ways. That's the nature of the games. The thought of abandoning Blaze, of leaving him when the danger is real…I can't bear that. I know it would be impossible.

_I don't want to be the one to kill him. Either directly or by letting someone else do it._

I glance up to see Sirena staring at me, patient, expecting. She looks like she knows what my answer will be. Is there something else behind her look? I think back to what she's been telling me, pretty much her only piece of advice so far.

_Be ruthless._

Yes. To save Blaze I have to be ruthless. If we're allies then it's only going to be harder when one of us dies. And if, like I'm planning, he's the one to survive then it's kinder to separate myself from him from the beginning. I want to stay alive for as long as possible but I don't want him risking his life to save mine. He can't be a hero if I'm not around for him to protect.

"I don't want to be allies." I speak up, my voice sounding like someone else's. Blaze blinks at me, like he doesn't quite understand. I don't blame him. If the roles were reversed I know I wouldn't understand.

"What?" He laughs then, like he thinks I'm making a joke. Oh Blaze, "But we have to be allies. It's what I'm here for."

"I know," I mutter, unable to look at him. I glance quickly at Sirena, whose expression is unreadable, before looking back down at the table. The food suddenly tastes stale in my mouth, "But I don't want to be all the same. I think I better go." I run away like a coward, leaving the food and the table behind. I'm still hungry but I know it's best I go now. I have to leave before he argues with me anymore, demands to know the reason behind my actions. I can't bear hurting Blaze. I know it must feel like I've stabbed him in the back, especially after he volunteered for me. Sirena's words echo through my head. Be ruthless, be ruthless, be ruthless. I chant it to myself like a prayer, as if by saying it enough I might actually start to believe it.

It's the best thing for Blaze though, I'm determined of that. He's far too ready to die for me. Being around me once the games begin could only be a hazard for him. It's only later that I realize this means I am truly alone. I think of Blaze, how far I am willing to go for him. Would I really die for him?

I think of our years spent together, working in the factory. I think of all the times he's made an awful day better with one of his humorous comments or witty remarks. I think of all the times he's taken care of me and protected me. I think of how he's never asked for anything in return.

Would I die for him? Yes. In a heartbeat.

Confident I have made the right decision, I retreat to my room. It won't be easy but at least I'm determined to stick by it now. So what if Blaze hates me because of it? That might even be better in the long run. After all, he can't win while I'm alive.

The Capitol beds are lush, grander than anything I could have ever expected. I mean to spend the night restlessly, worrying about my future and what I'm going to do about Blaze. Instead I'm asleep the second my head hits the pillow. I dream easily, nice dreams that allow me to escape reality. In my dreams I don't have to hurt Blaze at all. In my dreams my name was never picked from that stupid bowl.

Dreams are only temporary though. I can't hide from Blaze forever. But I can damn well try


	6. The Chariot Ride

The Chariot races. The next big event as far as the Capitol is concerned. They haven't seen us properly since the Reaping. I'm shaking inside. I know this won't be as bad as the interviews but it's still pretty bad. Blaze is stood beside me, his face stony and firm. I hope I haven't ruined his chances of being seen as a friendly person. I've barely spoken to him since the dinner. He's pleaded with me, trying to get me to explain what I'm thinking. I want to tell him but I know that will only make things worse. If he knows my motive then it will only make him all the more determined to protect me. So, like a statue I keep quiet. It's killing me inside.

I have to admit, our stylists have done a fantastic job. I was doubtful at first when I saw my outfit. As the textiles district I think they feel extra pressure to make our outfits special. Mine is certainly that. I'm wearing a shimmering silver body suit, so tight I can hardly breathe when I'm wearing it. That's not the special part though. No, what is going to make my outfit particularly memorable are the needles. Every inch of me is covered in sewing needles, sticking out like deadly razor blades. I can't touch anyone without potentially impaling them. Sirena decided to go with the ruthless angle after all. I try not to think about what convinced her, but I know it's what I did to Blaze. I am to remain silent and mysterious, not to mention surly. It will be a stark contrast to happy Blaze.

Blaze is also wearing silver, although he is sans needles. He is wearing a suit made out of the same material as my body suit, beautifully shiny. The second he steps out into the sun he is going to be dazzling. That alone wouldn't be grand enough to catch the audience's eye however, so he also has an utterly ridiculous hat in the shape of a spool of thread. I don't know what they are thinking with that, but I suppose it fits in with the theme and at least it will be memorable. With a self-deprecating grin he might even be able to pull it off.

I stand awkwardly as we wait, trying to pick a pose that won't result in me spearing myself. On the plus side I do get a good look at the other tributes for the first time. They're a formidable bunch. As suspected they're almost all taller than me, and the boys are bulkier than Blaze. It's hard to see the districts in front of us, but if I turn round I can see all the tributes from Districts Nine to Twelve. I certainly prefer looking at them compared to the Careers. Their outfits are more memorable than most of the tributes, although I am determined not to underestimate them. District Nine are both dressed like sheaves of wheat, wearing simple cotton clothes that have actual wheat strands sticking out of them. I barely notice the boy but the girl looks scared, even more so than me. She has beautiful brown hair which hangs to her waist. If she didn't look so washed out she might even be pretty.

District Ten, rather embarrassingly, are both dressed like sheep. The boy looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than here, plucking at the clumps of wool on his jacket with an expression resembling disgust. He is shorter than Blaze but far more muscular. Working with the animals will have given him an advantage.

Both District Eleven and Twelve seemed to have drawn the short straw when it comes to stylists again this year. They're dressed like farmers and miners respectively, all outfits almost identical to the previous years. They're going to have to work twice as hard to stand out.

The chariot lurches and my stomach goes with it. It's almost time. I turn to face Blaze out of habit and he's decent enough to give me a gentle grin.

"Ready?" He whispers, voice far kinder than I deserve.

"No."

"Well you're going to have to look like you are. We want them to be scared of you remember?" There is a hint of bitterness in his tone, not a lot but it's there. I want to reassure him in some way that I still care about him, but if I'm afraid to go near him in case I accidentally stab him. Suddenly the chariot lurches again and this time we are moving properly. Swallowing nervously, I try to appear composed. I'm not one for glaring but I imagine I am gazing into the face of the person who is forcing me to do this and I feel my features adopt a frown. Auriel did her best to make me look threatening with the makeup but I doubt even her grand work can help me much. I feel like I might explode as we roll out into view.

The crowd is massive, far bigger than I ever anticipated. It's so crazy and colourful that I hardly know where to look. Fortunately I remember Sirena's advice just in time. While Blaze is grinning widely and waving at the crowd, I do my best to stonily ignore them. Not completely of course, that would never do. I simply wave once curtly and then turn my attention to the big screen. It's projecting the images of the tributes one by one as they roll past the cameras.

Now I can see the earlier districts my chest tightens. District One are just as I expected, beautiful, muscular, prepared. They're wearing outfits spun from gold, far grander than our silvery attire. They are possibly the most beautiful people I have ever seen, and it's all I can do to keep the despair off my face. They won't have any trouble winning sponsors.

District Two are similarly threatening, although I note with some delight that their stylists have made one crucial mistake. They are wearing thick plates of armour, designed to look like rocks. It's certainly fierce. But their hair and faces have been coated with a kind of grey dust, obscuring them so much that it's hard to see what they truly look like. It's impressive but if the tributes aren't recognizable then it only makes them easier to forget. It's not much of a victory but it gives me a small twinge of hope.

District Three are dazzling, quite literally. They're both wearing black outfits but there is a sharp circuit pattern cut out all over. They push a button and it lights up, turning them into fantastic spectacles. I take comfort in the fact that they are smaller than the tributes from One and Two. Working with electronics may give them some useful skills but they can't be well-suited to combat.

District Four are just mesmerizing. Their stylists have taken the theme of the sea and run with it, dressing them in clothes which are the loveliest shade of blue I have ever seen. The girl's dress looks like it has been made from sea foam itself and it clings to her figure, transforming her into a beautiful siren. It's childish but I can't help feeling envious. She'll gain sponsors easily enough too.

District Five whiz by, nothing about them particularly memorable except their outfits. Their theme this year is solar and they are dressed in shades of orange and yellow that make them look like a sunset. Underneath the clothes though they aren't anything special. They're the first pair that I think I might actually be able to win against.

Sadly the same cannot be said for District Six. I don't know what fabric their outfits are made out of but it instantly fascinates me. They are dressed in some kind of grey silk that, when the light hits it, takes on the exact appearance of smoke. The boy looks tall and confident and the girl is smiling seductively at the crowd. I panic when I realize it is almost our turn to be shown. Thank goodness for Blaze, catching everyone's eye.

Despite myself I can't help feeling sorry for District Seven. They are trees again, like their tributes are trees every year. The girl looks weak but the boy has a sort of knowing smile that I don't like. He looks sly, like he might be a lot tougher than you'd think.

We're next. I see our faces, projected on the screen for all of Panem to see. Blaze actually looks wonderful, his funny hat tipped comically to one side so that a flash of his bright red hair sticks out. I have not harmed his performance one bit. He waves and smiles as if the crowd are his dearest and oldest friends. They laugh and cheer and point, every person noticing him.

I am not sure about myself. I am pleased to see I do look somewhat formidable, even if my scowl is a little odd. But do I stand out enough? I doubt it. Compared to Blaze I shrink away into the shadows. I will have to try extra hard in the interviews to gain favour.

I hate my outfit even more during the long speech. I can't cross my arms or even move in any way, so I'm stuck standing like a soldier with my back straight. I hope it makes me look more threatening, but I suspect I just look odd. I'm relieved when it's over and my outfit is ripped from me. Sirena comes over at the end, nodding with approval.

"That went well I feel. Blaze, you were excellent. Taci…well, you were better than I expected at any rate. Did you manage to check out your opponents?"

"A little." Her expression doesn't give me much hope.

"And? What did you think?" I hesitate, unsure whether to act confident or just be honest. A grim smile spreads across her face, "Exactly what I thought." She turns away without so much as another word, her dress trailing on the ground behind her. I glance down dismally. Even our mentor doesn't think we stand a chance.

Well she's wrong. I'm going to make sure of it. Blaze will win. He has to.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: It was a lot of fun writing this chapter :) There will be more about the other tributes later on. Please leave a review if you're reading since I'd love to know what you think, and thank you for sticking with the story if you've read this far<em>


	7. Training Begins

I approach training with mixed reactions. On the one hand, the prospect of meeting my fellow tributes up close worries me. I don't like the thought of them sizing me up, coming to the obvious conclusion that I am weaker than them. On the other hand if there's one thing which can help me then it's training. I get up early, gorging myself on as many different foods as possible before making my way down to the training room.

I am perhaps too early. When I arrive the only other tributes there are the Careers. They greet me with such hostile looks that I instantly wish I had waited for Blaze. Our relationship is still very uneasy at the moment, but I think he has begun to forgive me for not teaming up with him. At least, he doesn't act as detached as he did before. I'm surprised by how much I miss him. I knew he was important to me but I had no idea how empty, how alone I would feel without him. Since the age of six when we became friends we've barely been apart. I hate thinking that I might have hurt that relationship, no matter how good my intentions are.

I stand awkwardly opposite the Careers, trying not to look at them. All the same, I can't help being curious. There are both the District One tributes, even more devastatingly beautiful up close. The boy looks tough as nails but the girl seems less certain. Don't get me wrong, she's still utterly terrifying-but she seems to lack the same confidence the male tribute has. I see the smaller District Three tributes, standing hunched together. The girl is glaring at me like I am dirt. She has sleek black hair which is pulled into a harsh ponytail. The boy also has black hair, short and slightly curled. He's looking at me the way I tried to look when I arrived in the Capitol. I can tell instantly he is smart, and probably cunning too. I make a mental note to keep an eye on them both.

The District Four tributes seem less interested in me. I pay close attention to the girl, the one who was wearing that beautiful dress. She has long brown hair which is thick and curly. It hides her face pretty well but I can make out a pair of bright green eyes. She looks bored to the point of ignorance. The boy next to her is far more alert. He has paler brown hair which looks almost bedraggled, and a similar pair of green eyes. He glances at me briefly before looking away again, muttering something to the girl. She doesn't reply. It's pretty obvious neither of them think of me as a threat.

I look at the remaining two tributes with particular interest. I'm guessing from their size and close proximity to the others that they are District Two, although as predicted I can't really recognize them from the chariot ride. The girl has darker skin than I am used to seeing in District Two, and even darker hair. She has the same ruthless look that most of their tributes share though. Unlike me I doubt hers is an act.

To my surprise, the boy from District Two is watching me almost as closely as I am watching him. He doesn't look like a typical tribute either. He's big yes, and strong naturally. But he's not as tall as the male from District One, and there's something else off about him. I realize what it is with a start. There's little malice in his blue-eyed gaze. He's not looking at me with hatred or like I am something beneath him. He's looking at me like he's trying to figure me out.

I look away sharply, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself. If they get a good look at me then they might remember me, and I certainly don't want that to happen during the games. Just because I want Blaze to win doesn't mean I have to get slaughtered instantly. I plan to avoid the Careers at all costs and hopefully endure a relatively pain-free death. A heroic sacrifice would be nice but I'm not fussy.

Fortunately, other tributes soon begin to arrive. First the pair from District Five who it takes me a minute to recognize. Then the boy from Ten, as bored as he was before. More pairs, some of which I struggle to place. I remember neither from Twelve, barely notice Eleven. Six catch my eye yet again. And then it gets too crowded to notice anyone until finally Blaze comes rushing in.

He's last.

I give him a pointed look as he pushes through, taking his spot next to me. I can't believe it. Last! Doesn't he realize how important this is? He may be stronger than me but he's got a long way to go before he can be a serious contender. Every minute of training counts. I'm so furious I almost miss our instructions. When we're dismissed I turn to him angrily.

"What do you think you're playing at?"

"What?" He blinks, just as surprised by the notion of me talking to him as he is by my actual words.

"You need this Blaze. You can't skimp out on training. Not if you're going to win."

"I'm not going to." He replies, but already I'm walking away. I notice the boy from Two was listening in. Great. That won't make me seem ruthless if I'm protecting my fellow tribute. Still, what else was I supposed to do? Just let Blaze throw everything away?

It takes me a minute to decide where to go. I think of Sirena's advice, about using my skills to build traps and snares. I like the idea but I don't want to give away my hand too soon. Instead I head for a combat station, figuring it's best to learn as much as I can. Three days is not nearly enough time.

I spent the first hour or so at the knife table. It takes me longer than I hoped to pick it up. At first I'm clumsy, almost to the point of endangering the trainers. I learn pretty quickly that knife throwing is not for me. Fortunately I have more luck with close combat. By the end of the session I can defend myself reasonably well, although I still lack grace and accuracy. Just as I am leaving the girl from District One swans over, scooping up a handful of knives. She casually hauls them at the target, each one hitting the bulls eye directly. Then she turns to me and smiles with mock sympathy. It's an effort to keep my own expression blank. I try to look bored and unimpressed, although her display has affected me more than I care to admit. Turning away, I quickly head over to the next table. This one is archery.

Ten minutes later, I decide archery is definitely not for me. I was determined not to give up on anything easily, but I find it so tricky to work the bow that I can't help it. I console myself with the fact that it's rare for bows to be used during the games anyway. There's only so many environments where they'd be useful in the first place, and it's uncommon for Careers to use them as their weapon.

After a brief stint at the spear table (also disastrous, although better than archery) I look for Blaze. To my great annoyance I see him at the survival skills table, learning about plants or something. I roll my eyes, furious. It's not that I don't think that skill will be important-it's just that we're so behind in terms of combat that I feel he should be focusing on that. I'm so busy watching him that I fail to notice the boy from District Two sneaking up alongside me.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He makes me jump, so violently that I drop the spear I was holding. He sniggers, picking it up himself and giving it an expert twirl, "Sorry." It's hardly the sincerest apology but I'm so surprised to hear any kind of apology that I'm instantly suspicious. I step back, putting some physical distance between us.

"No," I reply sourly, watching him carefully. I take in his appearance-strong, like I gathered before. Far taller than me. I bet he's been in a fair few fights in his time. He has bright blue eyes which are very alert and short blonde hair. I don't like the way he's looking at me. It feels like he's figured out everything about me with just one glance, "Is that yours?" Keen to detract attention away from myself, I point at the District One boy. He's glaring at us from the armoury table, clearly trying to figure out why on earth the District Two boy is talking to me. To my greatest surprise, the Two boy laughs.

"Him? Naw. He's just worried I might be backing out on our alliance. It doesn't do to be too trusting in this game."

"I know," My tone is a little too defensive, but I dislike the way he's talking down to me. He blinks at me, amused. My glare deepens, "Did you want something?"

"Not really. Just curious about the competition. Your friend seems to be staying away from the combat tables. I'm guessing you're the fighter in the relationship then?" I ignore his use of the word 'relationship' and instead think carefully about my answer. If I'm clever, I might be able to do some damage control here.

"Blaze can fight plenty," I adopt a smug smile, a mirror image of the one the Careers were wearing earlier, "He just doesn't want to give his hand away yet. Why do you think he volunteered? He's been wanting this for years." I can tell my comment has thrown the guy. He looks at me warily, as if he can't tell whether I'm being truthful or not.

"Really? He sure doesn't look like it." It's my turn to smirk.

"That's the idea." Not wanting to waste any more time, I quickly head over to another table. Thankfully the Two boy doesn't follow me. Instead I see him looking at Blaze, as if sizing him up. The second I am gone the District One boy races over, looking very unhappy indeed. They speak quite heatedly, only sparking more amusement from me. It looks like I may have caused a little tension there. Good. The Careers are a formidable force, so the weaker their alliance the better it is for the rest of us.

In my eagerness to get away I seem to have picked one of the lesser-used tables. I see a tiny pipe-like object laid out, along with several sharp darts. Each one has a needle tip as sharp as a razor.

_Needles._

Amused, I pick it up. The trainer instantly comes over to help me, explaining to me that it is a blowgun. I actually know that from previous games but I act intrigued anyway, feeling sorry for them. I don't think a single other person has visited this table. I listen carefully to what they have to say and then begin playing around, testing the object. To my delight, I'm actually rather good. I hit the target on my third go, after trying various techniques. Throughout the next hour my skills only improve, and by the end I am hitting the target from a fair distance away. It's the first time I'm actually enjoying myself and it gives me hope. With this as a weapon, I might actually be able to take a few people down before I am slaughtered. It certainly gives me a better chance than my ineffective knife-slashing would have.

I talk in detail with the trainer, keen to learn as much as possible. They're more helpful than I could have possibly wished for. As well as teaching me the technique they tell me how I can make my own blowgun using tree bark and other plants. The darts are trickier of course, but if there are any poisonous flowers then I can use them to give my weapon the extra edge. I thank them, making a mental note to visit the plant table tomorrow.

When I turn to leave, I see the two tributes from District Four are watching me. They look disgruntled, and I'm pleased to see that they're paying attention to me. On the other hand, I wasn't really looking to get noticed. My plan of quietly slipping into the background and protecting Blaze seems more and more unlikely.

Lunch comes all too quickly, although I am grateful for the sustenance. The lunch room looks lonely, a boring grey area filled with cold steel tables. As expected, most tributes are sat alone. The only exception are the Career tributes, all of them crammed around a tiny table. They're chatting and laughing like they're old friends, not sworn enemies. It's so unnerving that I glance away quickly, spotting the flash of red hair which signals Blaze.

For a brief moment, I consider sitting by myself as well. I can't quite bring myself to do it though. Blaze looks so miserable that I cave the instant I step past. Noticing a few curious glances, I bury myself in my lunch.

"I thought you were going to ignore me then." Blaze grins, and his whole face is transformed. That's better. I can't stand him being sad.

"I wouldn't do that," I reply, trying to ignore how close I was to doing just that, "Just because I don't want to be allies doesn't mean I hate you or anything." His face drops a little and I instantly regret bringing it up.

"About that," he begins, taking a bite out of a bread roll, "When are you going to realize that we should team up together? I don't understand why you're so against it. I mean, I know I'm not the best fighter-"

"Stop," I hold up my hand, "It's not you. You know why I'm doing it."

"I really don't." Sighing, I preoccupy myself with my food. I'm not sure quite what I'm eating but it's some kind of vegetable, juicy and green. It tastes fantastic. Even that can't distract me forever though.

"Look," I force myself to meet his glance, although his eyes are so bright it almost hurts. Were they always that green? It must be the lights in the canteen. Everywhere is so bright here compared to the city, "I'm not having you dying for me. I know you-I know that if we team up you're going to be taking all these stupid risks and not watching your own back. And I know I'll be doing the same for you. So it's better apart. Trust me." He goes to protest but I silence him with a look. For a minute I think he won't drop it. Then, reluctantly, his body seems to relax and he lets out another sigh.

"Fine. Whatever. How did your training go? Or do you not want to share your strategy with me either?" His tone offends me but it's somewhat of a relief as well. If he's being grumpy with me then he's less liable to ask questions.

"Good," I nod, trying to sound positive, "I'm going to do survival skills tomorrow I think. What about you?"

"I don't know really. I'll probably do the same." He shrugs, and his casual attitude annoys me.

"Well don't neglect combat. And don't be late tomorrow either." I mean to sound harsh but I only seem to be making him laugh more. I go to yell at him again but before I can help it I'm laughing too, realizing how ridiculous I sound.

"You're not even my partner and you're nagging me," he smiles, "Maybe I've dodged a bullet here."

"I'm just concerned about you. Idiot." My tone is fond. Too fond. I know that the other tributes are probably listening in and it may harm me, but for once I don't care. It's the first time since arriving here that I actually feel like myself and I'm determined to enjoy it. Because, once those games begin, I don't think I'll ever be myself again.


	8. Training: Day Two

The next day I try to get up later, not wanting another repeat of yesterday's awkwardness. Thankfully it pays off. I am almost the last tribute to arrive, and by the time I get there people are far too busy to even notice me. I also spot that Blaze took my advice and got there early. Good. I'm so pleased he's listened to me that I'm returning his smile, before I have a chance to stop myself. I think the District Three tributes snigger. Embarrassed by my lack of control, I quickly look away. It might upset Blaze but I'm going to have to take that risk.

I enjoy myself much more today if I'm honest. I spend a long time at the plant table, memorizing which plants will kill me and which ones are safe to eat. There are little to no plants in District Eight so I have zero prior knowledge. Fortunately I find I am able to remember things quite easily, and by the time I leave I am confident I will be able to sustain myself.

The snare table is where I head next, also spending a significant amount of time there. Surprisingly, Sirena was right-when it comes to looping rope and setting up the traps, it's not really that different to making the baskets back home. While I am making my third snare the girl from District Nine accidentally bumps into me. She jumps about three foot in the air, her big brown eyes wide with fear.

"Sorry!" She splutters, and before I have a chance to reassure her she has skittered away. She's fast-really fast. Within seconds she is across the room, still throwing me fearful glances.

I think about calling after her, then remember the role I am supposed to be playing. Ruthless. Right. Instead of the sympathetic expression I intended to use I adopt my best scowl, glaring at her fiercely. It doesn't work at first so I pretend I am looking at Velvet, this awful girl who works with me back home. It seems to have the desired effect. The Nine girl cowers even more, darting out of view. I feel a small stab of guilt but mostly triumph. I can be threatening! Well, to a girl who looks like she'd be scared of her own shadow at any rate.

When I'm done with snares I do a brief stint at camouflage. I'm not quite as good at it as I hoped, although I can make cloak-like things out of leaves which do a reasonable job at disguising. I try not to focus on the fact that if I'm thrown into an arena which is short on plant life, most of today's activities have been a waste of time. While I'm hidden in my leaf cloak I take a sneaky glance at how Blaze is doing. Thankfully, he is at the swords table. Like I was with the knives he is a little clumsy, but I notice he doesn't seem to be having any trouble lifting things. Glancing at his arms, I'm pleasantly surprised. He does have some muscles on his lanky frame after all. Nowhere near the amount of the Career tributes of course, but he looks stronger than I expected. I suppose the long-sleeved tunics we wear must have hidden them. It's not like we have much cause for short sleeves in a District as cold as ours.

On the whole, when I approach lunch today I am feeling a lot more optimistic. That is until I walk in and see the state of the tables.

I don't know what I expected exactly. I suppose I sort of assumed that people would be sat the same way they did yesterday, with the Careers huddled together and everyone else apart. But to my surprise everyone is apart. I didn't notice anything odd with the Careers during training today but clearly something must have happened. The only ones sat together are the pair from District One (the boy looking furious) at one table and then the pair from District Four at another. That's it. Both District Two and Three tributes are completely split. Scanning the room, I realize that there is one other pair.

Blaze is not sat alone.

At first I think I must be somehow mistaken. But of course, no one looks remotely like Blaze. He is sat on a table chatting quite comfortably with the boy from District Ten. I can't believe my eyes. Before I have a chance to think about it rationally I have stormed over there, gazing at him furiously.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demand. Their pleasant conversation stops. Blaze looks at me casually, not noticing my tone.

"Hey Taci. You going to join us?"

"Blaze!" I snap, and this time he does notice. I see the boy from District Ten glance up at me nervously, as if he's afraid I might be unhinged. Good. Right now I'd like to be a little terrifying.

"Er, let's just go talk about this in the corridor for a second huh?" He gets up, giving the Ten boy an apologetic glance. Then, irritatingly, he grabs my arm and leads me out the double doors which lead to the toilets, as if he thinks I can't be trusted to walk on my own.

"You better have a good explanation for this Blaze." I cross my arms, turning to him the instant we are out of sight. Through the glass windows in the doors I can see everyone is looking at us. I can hardly blame them. This has to be the most dramatic thing that's happened in training yet. I turn my back on them so they can no longer see my face, focusing purely on Blaze.

"Me? You're the one who just flipped out for no reason!"

"No reason? How did you expect me to react when I saw you chatting with the enemy?"

"Dax isn't the enemy." He laughs then, and if it weren't for the rule about no fighting I might actually slap him.

"Everyone is the enemy now Blaze."

"Look, I know it probably surprised you but I was talking with him during training today and-well, if _you_ don't want to be my ally…" He trails off but he doesn't have to finish that sentence for me to figure it out.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"What?" He replies defensively, "Every year I watch the Careers team up and you know what I think? 'Why don't the other districts do that?' They'd outnumber the Careers easily. And okay, I know that the chances of us all teaming up are unrealistic. But one ally is better than nothing. I think I can trust Dax and he seems like a decent guy."

"One who will stab you in the back as soon as you let your guard down." I growl. This is all my fault. I should have just agreed to team up with him. At least then I could keep an eye on him. So what if it was risky? This is way worse. I was never going to try and kill him while he slept after all.

"It won't be like that." He protested, but I could sense there was some doubt.

"And how can you be sure? You don't even know anything about him."

"I know that he hates the Careers. And he's willing to team up with me to take them down." I can tell he's in one of his stubborn moods. Doubtfully, I risk a peek back through the glass. Dax, to his credit, is continuing to eat his lunch as if nothing is going on. I wriggle uncomfortably. Technically, I have no right to tell Blaze what he can and cannot do in the arena. I lost that the instant I refused to team up with him. But I still hate the thought of letting someone else take care of him, especially a stranger I know nothing about. How on earth am I supposed to trust someone else with my best friend's life?

Blaze can see me faltering. Earnestly, he takes hold of my hand.

"Come on. Give him a chance at least. Eat lunch with us."

"It's not like I have much of a choice is it?" Reluctantly, I re-enter the canteen. My lunch is still sitting on the table, slowly going cold. Fantastic. I can see everyone else looking at us, wondering what the fuss is about. Irritatingly, the boy from Two is smirking. I sit down opposite Dax and next to Blaze, giving him an apprehensive look.

"Hello." My greeting lacks any kind of warmth. I'm too busy trying to ignore everyone's eyes on me to put much effort into it. But Dax smiles back and he seems genuine enough.

"Hi. You're Taci right?" I nod, giving him a once over. He looks strong at least. More muscular than Blaze, but quite a bit shorter. Then again, Blaze is one of the tallest tributes. He has short brown hair, tanned skin and a pair of warm brown eyes which remind me a little of a cow's. He smirks when he sees me looking, "Are you checking whether or not you can beat me up?" A flicker of amusement enters my eyes. I extinguish it quickly.

"Maybe. I think I probably can." He laughs, and my doubts ease a little. I'm still suspicious though. Alliances are rare between non-Career tributes. Mind you, it looks like even those might be non-existent this year. They still haven't made any attempts to sit together. I point it out, wondering what Dax's take on it is.

"Oh that. I was training at the axe table and I heard them arguing. I think the District Three girl started it. She was saying that she didn't want to pair up with anyone. Personally I think she's crazy. The Careers are almost always successful. It's the best strategy." Curious, I glance over to the District Three girl. She is furiously devouring a chicken leg, her black hair pulled so tight it seems to be yanking her forehead back. She catches me looking and gives me an ugly stare. I frown back, trying not to let it show how worried I am. She must have a damn good reason for not wanting to team up. Dax is right-the Career pack is a staple part of the games, as sure as the Cornucopia or the copious amounts of 'natural' disasters.

"We can only hope," Blaze sighs, "With no Careers we might actually stand a chance. Although the pairs from District One and Four look pretty chummy. I don't know what's up with District Two though." Not wanting to risk catching the boy's eye again, I scan the crowd for the girl. There she is, spearing a few stalks of celery with her fork. She has some of the darkest eyes I have ever seen, and from this distance I could have sworn they were black.

"It's probably nothing." I shrug, suddenly wanting to change the subject. We chat pointlessly for a while, sharing various things about our districts. Though I try desperately not to, I can't help liking Dax a little. He has a very dry sense of humour, continuously making sarcastic comments about the games and the Capitol. I don't know how he can be so brave. I wouldn't dare speak out against the Capitol. Mind you, thinking about it now is pretty much the only time he'll be utterly immune to any kind of repercussions. As a tribute they can't touch him until he's inside the arena.

The arena. It seems disturbingly close.

I finish lunch, my appetite ruined by the reminder. In just a few days I will be trying to kill the people in this room. They'll be trying to kill me. It's almost surreal. As we go to leave, Blaze gives me a triumphant smile. I know what it means. He thinks that just because I found Dax funny I approve of their arrangement. Yeah right. I'm not about to trust anyone when it comes to Blaze's life. But I don't want to start a fight so I shrug back, acting like I'm not bothered. Let Blaze team up with who he wants to. It might even be good for him. But if Dax so much as tried to hurt him he was going to be dead before he knew what hit him. I was going to make sure of that.

Maybe I'm better at this ruthless thing than I thought.


	9. The Scores

My final day of training is all too brief. I am aware of every last second, knowing that this is my last chance to prepare myself for the horror ahead. I whiz from stand to stand, not sure where I should spend my time. I'm aware that I'm panicking and I know I should stop but I can't quite figure out how to. Fortunately I remember to spend some time at the first aid table before we run out of precious time. I know how to treat basic things like cuts and burns thanks to work at the factory, but I doubt any injury I pick up in the games is going to be minor.

This lunchtime I sit alone. Blaze is sat with Dax again and he gestures at me, but I don't think I can stand another attempt at being friendly. This is it now. No time for niceties. Twenty four of us are going into that arena and I am determined that Blaze is going to be the one who comes out again. When I think of dying it overwhelms me so much I can hardly breathe, but if I focus on Blaze then it makes it better. I'm confident he can win, despite his inexperience and other disadvantages. He'll shine in the interviews that's for sure, and with sponsors on his side who knows what will happen?

The interviews. The next stage in this torture process. Sirena has spoken to us carefully about them. She wants me to stick with the ruthless angle, even though I'm doubtful I can pull it off. Of course, a lot of it depends on the score I get given during my private session with the game makers. To be honest I've thought little about that. I know scores are important but I am far more concerned with Blaze's than my own. Sponsors only really matter if you intend to win. While I want to survive as long as possible, I would much rather Sirena spent sponsor money on him than me. A high score would be good for intimidating the other tributes, but since they've seen me train I'm doubtful I can do that anyway. No, I go into my private session expecting very little.

Of course, I did plan something before I went in. I wasn't going to be completely reckless and wing it. I decide to stick with the blowgun, taking some of the plants from the table which I remember to be poisonous and showing how I would alter the darts. Then I show off some target practice, pleased that I haven't lost the knack in the last two days. It's hard to tell how impressed they are but I hit the target from quite far away and they seem to be intrigued. To finish off I try some camouflage, making a copy of the leaf cape I made on the second day. They nod and dismiss me, satisfied but not overly excited. I breathe a sigh of relief. So far so good. I can only hope Blaze managed to impress them.

He tells me nothing about what he did in his session, but I can tell he's nervous. I want to ask him but I'm not sure I can do even that anymore. Things are back to being weird between us since I blanked him at lunch. I didn't bank on how lonely this process was going to be. It's pretty much the only thing I didn't expect, but it's not like now is a good time to be making friends after all.

That night after dinner we all huddle round the TV screen, me, him Adora and Sirena. Sirena is sipping another one of her thick drinks, much to my disgust. I don't know what's in them but since I have yet to see her eat they must be pretty strong. Adora is dressed in a velvet green gown today, her makeup all colour-coded to match. She looks a little like a giant vegetable but I am far too tense to make any sort of comment about it. This is it. This is Blaze's last opportunity to impress the crowd. Even a winning interview won't make up for a terrible score. As the screen flickers to life and they begin to go through the tributes I find myself grabbing his hand subconsciously. The human contact feels good, almost normal. Even though his hand is a little sweaty I still don't let go.

Unfortunately, the chronological order only prolongs my anxiety. As the male from District One appears I lean in closer. I barely have time to register their name and score before the next tribute appears.

Veneer-10  
>Luster-9 (due to her nerves I bet)<br>Corin-9 (the Two boy who wouldn't leave me alone)  
>Calista-10 (I wonder what skill she's hiding?)<br>Watt-7  
>Tesla-10 (is that why she doesn't want an alliance?)<br>Murdock-8  
>Nerine-7<p>

A mixed bunch from the Career tributes, although all high as expected. My grip tightens on Blaze's hand as they get closer to our district. The pair from Five score a six and a four. Two sevens for each of the District Six pairings, another six for the District Seven girl but a surprisingly high 8 for the boy. Then it's our turn. I squeeze Blaze's hand as his face appears on the screen.

A five.

I'm so disappointed I almost miss my own score. I get a respectable six which is not too bad for a tribute from our district. Still, I can't believe Blaze's score. I expected a seven at least, maybe an eight at a push. But he's the second lowest so far. What did he do, just stand there?

To my credit, I keep hold of his hand as the last few tributes flash up. Fives for both of District 9. Blaze's new friend gets a seven in District Ten. A four for the tiny boy from Eleven, easily the youngest tribute. The girl from Eleven who must be one of the oldest gets a six. Finally, a three and a four for District Twelve. So that's it. Our fates have been set in stone. The second the District Twelve girl disappears I release Blaze's hand. I have to turn away to hide my disappointment.

"Well that was a pity," Sirena sighed, "I thought you might at least try to get higher."

"I thought a five was pretty good." Blaze shrugs. I turn to him in disbelief, trying to see if he's kidding. He's not. I can't keep the anger out my voice.

"Pretty good? You don't get sponsors with a five Blaze! You don't win."

"Hey!" He looks hurt, "Why are you getting so mad? I'm not planning to win remember?"

"But you have to!" _I can't lose you. _I can't take it anymore. Sirena's obvious contempt for us, Blaze's indifference. I have to get out. Adora looks confused, like she doesn't quite know what's going on. As I storm out angrily I hear her reassuring him earnestly.

"But a five is good for our district! I don't know _why_ Taci is so mad…"

As I leave the room a cool blast of air hits my face. That's better. It was too stuffy in there, all clogged up with tension. I lean against the wall, enjoying the breeze until it hits me. There shouldn't _be_ a breeze. They keep everywhere in this building apart from the actual Training rooms relatively warm. I usually enjoy it when I'm not so angry since it's rare to be truly warm in our district unless you're toiling away in the factories. Curious, I follow the direction of the wind. It's then I notice the door to the roof is open.

I hesitate, feeling torn. On the one hand I'm not actually sure that we're allowed on the roof. On the other hand, Blaze is sure to come looking for me in a minute and I definitely don't want to face him right now. Deciding I might as well go the whole hog and storm off properly, I start to head up onto the roof. It's freezing up here but I'm more than used to the cold, simply wrapping my clothes a little tighter around me. The view is spectacular, bright and majestic. I can't help comparing this shining city to the dirty, cluttered one I used to live in. There's no comparison really. It's like comparing a brand new knife to a wooden toy a child has made.

Knives. So training has got to me after all. I start to head closer to the edge when I realize someone is huddled up here. They're right on the edge, so close that their feet are dangling over it. I think about retreating quietly but the thought of Blaze changes my mind. Instead I slowly walk forward to join the person.

"I know you're there." I freeze at the sound of the voice. It's the boy from District Two. Corin.

"Good," I reply, before I can think about it, "Now I don't have to be stealthy when I stab you in the back." He turns round to face me, those blue eyes bright even in the dark of the rooftops. That grin is back.

"Taci." He smiles, and he almost sounds pleased to see me. I frown, uncomfortable at his use of my name.

"You know my name?"

"Calista heard your district partner call you by it. It's nice. Means 'silent' right? Pity you don't really suit it." I know the smart thing would be to turn around and leave again, but for some reason I feel almost drawn to staying here. Ordinarily I would say anyone who chose to spend time with a Career tribute was insane, but Corin certainly doesn't seem like a threat right now. At least the force field lets me know he can't throw me off the rooftop.

"So you're an expert on names now?" I smirk, also walking over to the edge. It looks dizzyingly high but I'm determined not to show anymore weakness. I sit down next to him but with at least a metre gap between us. Just because I'm not leaving right away doesn't mean I'm about to stick my hand into the lion's cage.

"No. Actually it was my mentor who told me that. He's big on the whole 'know your enemy' thing."

"Well, it can certainly help."

"Is that why you're talking to me now?"

"Partially. Mainly it's just because I want to avoid my district partner." I mentally kick myself. Why did I tell him that? It's none of his business. I was wrong before, he is dangerous. His friendly attitude is making me relax, reveal details I otherwise wouldn't.

"Really?" His eyes widen in surprise, "I thought you two were really close. Didn't he volunteer for you?" I frown, caught off guard again.

"How do you know that?"

"Calista's really good at listening in," he admits, "Your friend was telling the District Ten boy. Does this mean you two aren't going to be allies?"

"That's none of your business." I reply stiffly. Maybe it would be better if I left now. I doubt this conversation is helping me any.

"I'm only asking because…" he stops suddenly, as if embarrassed, "No, forget it."

"What?" Curiousity gets the better of me. He turns to me with an almost hopeful look. I get a funny feeling, similar to the one I had right before the Reaping. It's the feeling I get when I know something bad is about to happen.

"I know it's a crazy idea," he begins, gazing out over the city, "But I was thinking maybe we could be allies."

My mouth drops open in disbelief. Of all the things I thought he'd say, that was never on my list. He must think I was born yesterday. Without thinking I'm laughing, struck by the hilarity of it all.

"What's so funny?" He looks annoyed, and for the first time he looks like a true Career. Proud.

"You must think I'm an idiot." I snort, wiping my eyes. I see a flicker of hurt cross his face and I have to bite back more laughter. This is priceless. If only I was still friends with Blaze-he'd die hearing about this.

"Is it that ridiculous to you?" He demands. My laughter stops short. I frown, feeling irritated. I know we're probably a bit of a joke to the Careers, but this is just insulting. He can't actually think he can fool me with this charade.

"Oh no. Actually, it seems like the best idea around. Yes, I'll trust you completely. It's not like you'll kill me the second I turn my back to you or anything." He frowns now, also peeved.

"Is this because I'm a Career?"

"Oh come on," I snap, "It's not like you're _serious_. Why on earth would you choose to team up with me? You got a nine as your score! Do you know what I got?"

"No actually," He smiles, "I stopped watching after my score."

"Well I'll tell you. A six. Maybe that tells you why I'm laughing at the thought of us being allies?"

"You don't trust me do you?" He realizes. I shake my head, smirking.

"Slow aren't you? Pity you can't tell your friends I fell for your scheme. Next time you might want to try something a bit more believable." Without another word I leave, still sniggering at the thought. I figured that if they were going to hatch some kind of plan it would have been something a little less obvious than this. As if! Mind you, the audience would have a field day with that. A Career tribute and one from District Eight…it would be downright hilarious. I'm annoyed that they think so little of me, but at the same time I'm relieved. If they're pulling stunts like that they clearly don't think of me as a threat, and that could give me an advantage. Well, it might if I actually was a threat. Still, if that was their best plan then I'm laughing. Maybe this year the Careers aren't as smart as I thought.

It isn't until I've gotten into bed (thankfully Blaze isn't waiting to confront me, and there's no sign of either Adora or Sirena) that I realize my encounter with Corin has made me completely forget about the interviews. Well that's some comfort. Of course, now I'm back to dreading it. I'm confident Auriel will make me look good at least, so hopefully I can hide behind my outfit. Otherwise I don't really know what I'm going to say to keep on appearing ruthless.

Just as I'm drifting off, I get the weirdest flashback of lunch today. I think of Corin sat alone, the Career tributes all divided. I suppose that was just part of their plan. Seems quite far to go though for such a poorly thought-out stunt. It's a pity-a game without a Career pack might have actually been an interesting twist. If only Corin had been telling the truth.

I smile at the idea. Things like that don't happen.

It's not how you play the game.


	10. Preparation

In the morning I wake up feeling guilty. I am determined to apologize to Blaze, to make the most of this last precious day together. Unfortunately I don't get that chance. Sirena informs me at breakfast that he left early, already gone to meet up with Adora. We both get a private session with her today which is sure to be verging on unbearable. It's then I realize how badly I must have hurt his feelings yesterday. I've never known him to get up early for anything.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Sirena tells me, stirring some strange powder into her sickening drink. I feel queasy just watching her, "In a few days one of you will be dead."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." I grumble, helping myself to a large portion of fruit. It's one of my last chances to eat decent food, I might as well make the most of it. I haven't put on much weight here but I'm definitely the better for it. With access to vegetables and other varied delights my hair has begun to shine again and my nails don't feel quite so brittle. I'm sure Auriel and my prep team will be ecstatic.

"Of course it doesn't. But right now I don't care about your feelings. We need to talk about your interview. Are we sticking with the ruthless angle?"

"I guess so. What else have I got?"

"That's a fair point. Now your six isn't great but we can still work with it. All you have to do is make it seem like it was intentional, like you're trying to be a dark horse. Be mysterious. And-I can't stress this enough-don't you dare let your feelings for Blaze show." I dislike her giving me orders. Don't get me wrong, I'm used to having to do what I'm told and most of the time I'm quite content to. But Sirena speaks to me like I'm stupid and I can't stand that. Even the factory owners treat you with a little respect.

"Have I done so so far?" I snap.

"Yes. You had the right idea when you refused an alliance, but you're too weak. Everyone can see that you care about him."

"Well excuse me if I can't turn off ten years of friendship just like that!" This is a bad idea. She's only going to get me all worked up before my interview, can't she see that? It takes all my strength not to storm off again. This time it's different though. I can't run away from this. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, I need her advice. She survived somehow. She has to know something about how to do it.

We fall into a hostile silence. I'm more than happy to leave it that way, but there's something I have to ask her.

"How did you win anyway? You never told us." She glances down at the table, her coloured lips spreading into a bitter smile.

"Do you really want to know?" I nod, then because that isn't enough I add

"Yes. Please." She lifts up her drink and takes a delicate sip. I watch with disgust as she drains the glass, swallowing every vile millilitre of that concoction. Finally, she sets it down and meets my gaze.

"Very well. You asked me if I let anyone die for me. I said no. That was a lie," Her voice is even, composed but there's something behind it which scares me. Something so raw it's terrifying, "His name was Plato. He was from my district. Before the games I'd never even spoken to him. But I was determined to win. I would have done anything. So I flirted with him, befriended him. We became allies. I was a good actress-better than you. When we got down to the final six we parted, but Plato couldn't quite give up on me. He followed me. A boy from District Seven tried to kill me with a dagger, and he jumped in the way. I stayed with him while he died." A misty look entered her eyes. Not quite sorrow-I think she was past that. More like she was recalling a fond memory. It lasted only briefly and then it was gone. When she met my eye again her gaze was solid.

"His sacrifice gave me time to take down the District Seven boy. Two of the tributes left took down each other and then I just had to kill the final tribute. It was as simple as that. That's what you have to do to win. You have to shut down your emotions or else use them to your advantage. There's no room for anything genuine in there. Genuine will get you killed." I stare at her silently, thinking. It strikes me then, the thought that what makes her so inhuman isn't the way she dresses or the way she's altered herself. It's her eyes. She shut down her emotions alright. She did such a good job that they never came back.

"I can't do that to Blaze," I say eventually, not sure how else to reply, "I want him to win, not me. I'm the one who will be making sacrifices." She smiles, a weary smile.

"We'll see if you still feel that way when there's a knife at your throat. There's a reason I picked ruthless for you honey. You can't conjure something up out of thin air."

"That's what you think." I mutter, but it's barely audible. The truth is, I'm wondering if she might be right.

I'm relieved when my session with Sirena is over. I don't know if she told me anything useful to be honest but I did learn something from watching her. If I can mimic her indifference then maybe I can appear ruthless. It's weird how hard I'm trying to look like something I didn't even want to be in the first place. It unsettles me, like already I'm becoming something I'm not. I'm relieved when I bump into Blaze in the corridor, on his way back from Adora.

"Last chance," he grabs me, a pleading look in his eyes, "Let's team up. Come on Taci, you know it makes sense." His eyes look unusually bright again, so clear and green they're mesmerizing. I hesitate, wishing I wasn't so tempted. It would be so easy for me to say yes now, to just agree to be allies with him. It's what everyone will be expecting. I haven't even thought about how people back home will react to my persona. They'll understand right? They have to. Everyone changes for the games. It's practically an unofficial rule. One Blaze is ignoring.

He won't change. He's still the same cheerful guy he's always been, the one who will do anything for me. I imagine being with him the arena, how much safer I would feel with him around. He might even make it bearable.

_Just say yes…it will be so easy…_

_Easy? You coward.  
><em>

"I'm sorry." I reply stiffly. Those green eyes fill with hurt, undisguised. He releases his grip on my arm, retreating in obvious disappointment.

"Okay then. Good luck in the arena Taci." He leaves quickly, not glancing back. My heart wrenches but I resist the urge to call after him. It was Sirena's story that did it. When she spoke of how willingly the boy sacrificed himself for her, I couldn't help thinking of Blaze. I know he'd do the same, and I simply can't risk that. So that's it. I've made my choice. I can only hope my family back home understands when they see me alone in the arena.

I'm not in the mood for Adora and her silly remarks, but I can hardly refuse to go. Besides, I desperately need help preparing for this interview and she's the only person left who can give it to me. Today she is dressed in a pale pink dress which makes her resemble a great deal of the desserts I saw at dinner last night. Still, at least her pink lipstick looks a lot better than the red one. Less blood-like that's for sure.

"Oh come in dear!" she trills, patting the couch next to her. I take a seat, wondering if she ever speaks at a normal volume, "Now how are you feeling after your little spat last night? I do wish you'd be friends with Blaze. There's simply no sense in all this fighting." If I was a little braver I might point out that the entire idea behind the Hunger Games is fighting. Instead I keep quiet, trying to figure out what fabric her dress is made out of.

"I'm fine." I reply simply, realizing she actually wants an answer. It's not very convincing but it seems to satisfy her. She clasps her hands together, glancing me up and down.

"Excellent! Now, since I don't know what your stylist has planned-she simply _refuses _to tell me anything-I'm going to have to give you some basic advice. Sit up straight. Look like you want to be there. And for heaven's sake, smile!"

"I thought I was supposed to be ruthless." I speak up meekly, a little afraid to be at such close quarters with her. She certainly seems nice enough but I just can't trust a woman whom I've seen for the last ten years and who apparently hasn't aged a day.

My remark seems to be news to her.

"What? Oh no dear, that was for the Chariot Ride! We can't have you being all sulky in interviews. The time for mysterious has past. We want you to be memorable, eye-catching, likeable. And that means smiling. You should watch Blaze-for someone growing up in such conditions he certainly has a lot of charm." I try not to be offended by the way she describes my home, knowing she doesn't mean it in a nasty way. I suddenly wish I could be like Blaze, not quite so meek or unsure all the time. He acts like this process hasn't fazed him one bit when all it's done for me is made me doubt myself. I'm far too fond of him to ever be truly jealous but I am a bit envious of his easy-going nature.

I try properly then, listening to everything Adora suggests no matter how ridiculous I find it. She advises me against talking about my home-apparently the citizens of the Capitol will find tales of District Eight 'dreary', and any mentions of Blaze will instantly push attention back on to him. Instead I am advised to talk about how excited I am to be here and how thrilled I am for the games. About halfway through her speech I start to feel nauseous. I'm not sure I can do this.

Finally, she dismisses me. I get a quick chance to grab some lunch and then I'm escorted down to Auriel. She greets me with what seems like genuine delight, her pale green hair tied back today. Thankfully she doesn't speak about the interviews. Instead she talks simply about what she has planned for my wardrobe, the prep team flitting round me like flies round a trashcan. I barely pay attention to what she says, although I am grateful she is making an effort to be nice to me. All I want to know is what my outfit for the interviews will be. I practically stop breathing when she brings it out.

It's my dress. The one I was wearing when I was picked. Only not quite-when she brings it over I see it is not the same dress at all, but rather a copy. It is the same style and the same bright shade of white (well, a less grotty version) but when the light catches the fabric it transforms into a shimmering prismatic veil. Rainbows dance across the surface, glowing like some kind of wondrous pearl. I let her dress me in it, utterly speechless. It fits perfectly. The material is silky and the softest thing I have ever felt. She wraps a see-through rainbow sash around my waist and then calls in the prep team to finish off my hair and makeup.

They leave my now-glossy hair loose, curled at the ends so it lies in waves. Then Auriel brings out the ribbon, the same one which is to be my token.

"It was this which inspired the dress," she says, almost shyly, "I figured it would help people remember you in the arena if you wore it." After that they add colour to my washed-out skin, applying a pearly white eye shadow and mascara which makes my eyes look big and luscious. When I finally see myself in the mirror it is like looking at a stranger. I look so beautiful I want to cry. Instead I merely shake my head, gazing at the person who has transformed me.

"Thank you." I whisper. She smiles, nodding her head.

"I hoped you would like it. There's just one more thing to add." I frown, wondering what she could possibly do to improve something as perfect as this. She gestures for me to turn round and when I've done so I feel her hands around my throat. Instantly I want to panic but then they go, leaving behind a necklace. I glance down to see a row of sewing needles threaded along a pale white string.

"What's this for?" It's a pleasant enough necklace I suppose but I can't help feeling it looks a bit out of place with my delicate outfit. She simply smiles though, shrugging away my doubt.

"It should become clear. Now you best get ready-the interviews start soon." At the mention of the word I start to panic, so I distract myself by gazing in the mirror. I look amazing and yet, I can't help but feel sad. Really, all this work is a waste. I don't intend to win after all. I feel guilty when I think of how much effort she must have put into planning this, all the people who may choose to sponsor me based on her vision. I am a lost cause.

It is this thought which is on my mind when I am led off for the interview. As always, the stage is spectacular. There are so many lights it's dizzying, and I think for a moment I might ruin everything and actually faint. Fortunately something keeps me going-maybe adrenaline or maybe something more. I spy Caeser Flickerman, his hair and eyebrows dyed an alarming shade of orange this year. I think that's when it hits me how real this is. Maybe that or when the music starts up.

The interviews begin.


	11. The Interviews

Despite my nerves, somewhere my brain reminds me that it's important to pay attention. I need to know these people, to figure out how I can beat them for Blaze. As always, the District One tributes are up first. The achingly gorgeous girl swans onto the stage, dressed in a black dress which clings to her sexily. It goes pretty much as expected-Caeser flirts with her and she giggles back, enchanting the audience. There's no trace of her nervous side now. She's in her element. Still, I cling to the fact that she might not be so confident once she's inside the arena. What was her name again? Luster? With a name like that she'd have to be beautiful.

The male, Veneer, naturally goes next. He has also gone for the sexy angle and for a while it works, but when Caeser asks him about the arena he tenses up and his expression gets angry. I can see that typical Career bloodlust in him, under the surface. No doubt about it, he wants to win. I can't help worrying about him. He has to be at least three times stronger than Blaze.

Calista as she was called is utterly vicious. She talks about us other tributes with a snide tone, remarking how she doesn't think any of us are a challenge. Her black eyes are haunting, sucking you in with their hate. Her dress is blood red and she strokes it lovingly as she talks, as if captivated by its colour. She terrifies me completely.

I pay close attention to Corin's interview, curious after my encounter with him on the rooftop. Once again he fails to fill any traditional Career mould. He chats politely to Caeser, being both friendly and charming. He mentions that he thinks this year's games are going to be interesting, refusing to divulge any more information despite his host's coaxing. I am beginning to think I won't find out anything until Caeser brings up his family.

"Of course, you have quite a bit of history with the games don't you Corin?" I watch as his expression changes, losing some of his confidence. His eyes seem to dim a little.

"Yes," he speaks quietly, "My four brothers have all been involved in the games. Some of them picked…others volunteered. None of them won." A slight edge enters his voice. Caeser picks up on it, encouraging.

"And you want to avenge them do you?"

"I want to win," He verifies, "I feel I have to. My parents have lost so much already. It would be nice if our family had one victor."

"Who knows? This could be your year." Caeser smiles as he dismisses him, but Corin still hasn't lost that serious look. I frown, trying to imagine how it must feel to have lost so many people to the same awful event. I can barely cope with the idea of losing one person close to me, let alone four. Despite myself I feel a twinge of sympathy.

Well, his parents will have to cope with one more loss this year.

The thought makes me uncomfortable and I quickly push it to one side, not quite ready to face up to it yet. It's easy to ignore the horrors the arena will bring when we're surrounded by such glamour. The way we look tonight it seems impossible that any of us could ever draw blood.

I watch the girl from District Three (Tesla) with particular interest, remembering that she is the one apparently responsible for the split of the Career tributes. She is wearing a pretty dress covered in coloured lights, but her expression and tone are utterly flat. She is without warmth, responding to all questions with one or two word answers, almost as if she was a robot. Caeser tries his best but there's nothing he can do. Her approach should reassure me but all it does is make me even more nervous. What has she got up her sleeve that makes her confident enough that she doesn't even need to try for sponsors? As she leaves the stage we lock eyes and she smiles, a chilling smile. It looks like she's picturing my death.

Watt, the male from District Three is a bit better. He is also wearing a suit made up of dazzling light bulbs but he tries hard to get the personality to match. He does reasonably well but it's pretty obvious he's not comfortable. I remember that thoughtful look and figure that he probably prefers working quietly in the background to shining in the spotlight. To be perfectly honest I pay more attention to his outfit than to him, wondering how exactly his stylist managed to get the bulbs to fit so perfectly. The suit certainly doesn't look like it's hiding any wires. I feel a small stab of sorrow when I realize that I will probably never know how to make something as advanced as that. It's almost a shame-when I was very little I secretly harboured dreams of perhaps becoming a stylist one day. It happens rarely in our district but it does happen, and of course District Eight is a popular choice when recruiting new stylists. By now I had pretty much given up on those dreams, but I guess there was still a small part of me who hoped it would happen. I can feel that hope vanishing now. Maybe Blaze can become one, although he always preferred machine work to the more creative side. I suppose he'll either work in the factories for the rest of his life or else he'll become a warehouse manager. I can see him being happy with either.

Will he marry someday? I suppose he must. I can't say the girls are particularly fond of him, but he does have his share of admirers. And of course he's the funniest, kindest boy I ever knew. I try to picture what Blaze's wife will look like and find that I can't. Instead I think about his children, a bunch of red-haired, playful toddlers who are like miniature versions of him. That makes me smile. I think he'd make a good dad, one day. Providing the games don't mess him up.

District Four's stylists have stuck firmly with the theme of the sea. Nerine is up first, dressed in one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen. It is a turquoisy green like the ocean, making her eyes stand out fiercely. It starts off a dark colour at the bottom and lightens as it goes up in a glittering gradient. Her thick brown hair is swept back, making it look even bigger. She sits regally, chatting with Caeser in a polite but disinterested way. I can't help tuning out too, until one important question grabs my attention.

"And of course it must be extra difficult for you. To face off against your sibling…I can't imagine the conflict you must be feeling." Sibling? I glance at the male District Four tribute, who is waiting offstage. They must mean him. He's her brother? It shocks me but I can certainly see the resemblance. The thought disturbs me greatly. What are the chances of both siblings being picked? Or did one volunteer? I can't decide which is worse. Being forced to fight your sibling or choosing to.

"Murdock and I have agreed to work together. When it comes down to the two of us, well…I've always said I could beat him." She smiles as if it is one big joke, and the audience members even laugh. I'm horrified. Don't they get it? This isn't some typical sibling rivalry that you can just dismiss as sweet. This is real. She's talking about murdering her own brother!

Murder. I frown at the word. We're not supposed to call it that but that's what it is really. We are all going to murder each other. And the person best at murdering well, they're treated like a hero. Funny how no one seems to notice that. Just stick the word 'game' in there and everyone has fun.

I shiver as Nerine leaves the stage. I'm not sure I can do this anymore.

Murdock enters just as his sister leaves, dressed in a blue suit which has the pattern of waves on the sleeves and legs. His hair has been combed back but it still looks bedraggled, even though I have no doubt his stylist blow-dried it for hours. All I can focus on now is the similarities between him and Nerine. Same green eyes, same curly hair which is almost identical in shade. The crowd is eager to see him after what she said, cheering louder than they have done for other tributes. He smiles but his eyes look weary. For a second he locks gaze with his sister and I think I see a look of pain shoot across his face.

He doesn't talk much either but he speaks about more personal stuff that Nerine did. We're discouraged from speaking at length about our Districts but he tells a charming story of how he taught her to fish when they were younger and she made her first catch. I'm surprised by how painful it is to watch. There is affection in his tone when he speaks about her and it's clear to me that he cares deeply about her. I look to see if she's noticed but she appears to have vanished from backstage. Caeser dismisses him gently, not pushing the rivalry angle. I have a feeling that if those two make it to the end then it will be Nerine who wins, but not because she is better.

Once again I find myself overlooking District Five. I didn't notice them much before and I see little point doing so now when their scores were so low. They're both non-descript anyway, although once again their outfits are magnificent, made out of yellow and orange silk. The boy does all right but the girl messes up her interview badly, tripping over the hem of her dress on her way out. I can see from where I'm standing that she's crying the second the cameras are off her. I try to quell my pity and ignore the fact that I'm thinking she won't last long in the arena.

I start to pay attention again when the girl from District Six walks on. Her dress is a pale grey and woven with that same material from the chariot ride which made her look like smoke. It's frowned upon for stylists to repeat outfits but in this case I'm inclined to forgive them. It's just as mesmerizing as before, and the girl certainly sells it. I manage to catch her name-Colette. She is almost as pretty as the girl from District One and she flirts with the crowd, adopting a seductive giggle. It takes her ages to exit as she keeps on stopping and waving. The crowd love it but I can't help feeling annoyed. We're all given the same amount of time for a reason. It's unfair of her to try and stretch it out.

Fortunately the boy from District Six isn't so greedy. He is wearing a pale grey suit and a confident smile. He seems at ease on stage, calmly talking about the games and the other tributes. He is well-built enough that that alone could cause him to be noticed, but it's his confidence that really makes him stand out. I can instantly that he not only thinks he is going to win, but he _knows _it. I am determined to prove him wrong of course but it is hard to argue with that level of arrogance. I miss his name the first time but then I catch it the second time. Ilias.

Panic kicks in as the District Seven girl takes to the stage. Just two more people and then it will be me. I feel my mouth go dry as it hits me. What on earth am I supposed to say? I can't think of anything right now which won't sound stupid or even insulting. I want to turn and run away more than ever before, only of course that isn't an option now. I wonder what they would do if I tried though? Stop me discretely? Or just gun me down right there for all of Panem to see?

I need Blaze more than anything right now. Before I can stop myself I turn round. He's standing there, dressed in some strange woollen suit. He must be boiling right now but it does look great, rainbow strands wrapped around him like he's some kind of puppet or ragdoll. It looks like one good tug and the whole thing would unravel comically.

"Blaze." I plead, whispering so as to avoid being yelled at by the stage crew. He opens his mouth to say something, then hesitates when he sees my expression. I have absolutely no right to ask him for help now after deserting him, but it's the only thing I can think of doing to stop the panic. He looks at me uncertainly for a few minutes before suddenly pulling me into a hug.

"You'll be great Taci. Honest. Just be yourself. You don't need any of Sirena's crap." The hug only lasts a few seconds (far too short) but miraculously it seems to work. I'm filled with such gratitude that it's all I can do not to start crying, but I know doing that would ruin everything. He took a big enough risk hugging me in front of the other tributes. Instead I smile gratefully at him before turning back round, spotting that the girl's interview is now over. The boy steps out and then I'm front of the queue.

Having composed myself a little, I'm keen not to lose it again. I force myself to focus on the District Seven boy's interview, remembering that I meant to keep an eye on him anyway. When he sits down in the interview chair it's easy to see that he's smaller than most of the other male tributes, but it doesn't seem to hinder the effect he has. Kahn his name is-his black hair is scruffy and he has a knowing smirk on his face. He is surprisingly witty in his interview, spilling out phrases so quickly that even Caeser has trouble keeping up with him. When he leaves the crowd cheers, impressed by this wily boy.

And then it's my turn.

When Caeser says my name it's like everything goes into slow motion. I barely recognize it as my name. Surely it can't be my turn? It's too soon! It takes a push from Blaze to get my legs to work and carry me out onto the stage. If I thought the lights were bright before they're positively blinding now. The crowd swirls into one multi-coloured mess, and I blink so much that I almost fall over in my dizziness.

Among the brightness I manage to make out a hint of orange hair. I make my way towards it, stumbling into the interview chair gratefully. If the crowd noticed my unsteadiness they don't show it. Caeser greets me with a smile and that's when I realize I'm going to have to start talking.

"Now Taci, you caused quite a stir with your Chariot outfit. How does it feel to be a fashion icon?" It's hard for me to register what he says, but common sense kicks in and demands me to focus. I realize that he's helping me and try to relax a little. When I speak my voice still has a hint of a tremor though.

"A fashion icon?" I just manage to stop myself from frowning. Confusion is not attractive.

"Yes," he smiles kindly, "People in the Capitol have been tripping over themselves to replicate your style. Did you feel as good as you looked on the chariot ride?" Fashion…that's good. I can talk about that. Blinking, I try to sound as normal as possible.

"That outfit was amazing," I admit, feeling a bit shy, "I felt really lucky to have the stylist I do. Even if I was afraid I was going to maim the other tributes." A laugh from the crowd. A small one but I'm glad for any kind of positive response. I straighten up a little.

"Those needles were just incredible! I felt sure you were going to draw blood by the end of it. And you're looking just as wonderful tonight I might add. Am I right in thinking this resembles your reaping dress?" I glance down at my dress, forgetting for a minute that I have the beautiful white one on.

"Oh yes. It was based off that. I loved that dress but I simply adore this one. The clothes are so nice here." I smile at the crowd and am surprised to hear them cheering. Clearly complementing them was a good move.

"I must say, that necklace you're wearing is very interesting also. Is that in lieu of your nickname?" I hesitate, lost again. I wasn't aware I had a nickname. Fortunately Caeser picks up on my uncertainty.

"Of course, it must be odd to hear people calling you 'Pins'. Let's hope you don't turn into a pincushion!" The crowd laughs again and this time I join in, mind whirring. Pins? Is that what they're calling me? Well, it's better than nothing I suppose. And it will certainly be ironic if I manage to get my hands on a blowgun. I feel an odd sense of delight. They did notice me after all.

"I'm hoping that won't happen." I smile, feeling a bit more comfortable. This isn't so bad. At least the lights mean I can't see them all staring at me.

"I'm sure it won't," he reassures me, "Now, about your strategy for the games. You scored a six which is very reasonable. Care to tell us what you have planned?" I hesitate. This is the point where I'm supposed to act mysterious and threatening, to persuade the audience I have a chance. I stare at Caeser, realizing how much his new hair looks like Blaze's. Then I think of Blaze backstage, helping and comforting me. I think of what he said.

_Be ruthless._

That voice pipes up again. My voice? Or Sirena's? I hardly know anymore. And, quite frankly, I'm not sure I care.

I suddenly know what I have to do.

"I'm afraid I can't really tell you much." I adopt a tone of false modesty, glancing down at the floor as if I'm feeling shy.

"Aww, that's a shame. Are you sure you won't tell me?" He bats his eyes hopefully and the crowd laps it up. I smile and shake my head, wondering how he'll react to my next confession.

"I'd love to Caeser but to be perfectly honest, I don't have a plan," his eyes widen in surprise. I continue quickly before he can interrupt, "You see, I don't actually want to win." Everything goes quiet. I expected a big reaction of course, but I didn't realize how loud the crowd actually were until every person stops talking. It is so silent in fact that (as I realize with some amusement) you could hear a pin drop. And that's what I'm doing-dropping a bombshell. Even Caeser can't contain his shock. I've said the forbidden words. There's no going back now.

"But…if you don't want to win-" I really have done it. The great Caeser Flickerman is short for words. Fortunately I'm not. For the first time I feel like I know exactly what to say.

"I know I've probably shocked you all," I stare straight at the crowd, no longer afraid, "But the truth is I don't want to win. I want Blaze to."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: I'm afraid I have some bad news. I'm back at school in two days which means I probably won't be able to update this as quickly as I have been doing. I will keep writing though and I'll do my best not to leave it too long. Of course, reviews always help since I love knowing I actually have an audience to write for. Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and to those of you who have subscribedfavourited. I really appreciate it ^_^_


	12. The Night Before

The silence continues. And grows. As it does I start to lose some of my new-found confidence. I'm convinced I did the right thing. Well, maybe not in the eyes of the Capitol or anyone else involved in the games, but it was the right thing for me to do and that's all that matters. Even if I do feel a bit like a circus freak right now.

Eventually, Caeser recovers. You have to hand it to him, he's a pro. He swallows and blinks at me, his tone the most uncertain I have ever heard it.

"Well, that's certainly…commendable of you Taci. Let's hear it for Taci Twyla everyone!" That seems to be the cue for things to return to normality. The crowd claps obediently but I can hear a growing sea of murmurs. I leave the stage, making sure to smile and wave cheerily as if nothing has happened. The other tributes all stare at me as I exit, some of them annoyed and others just stunned. Corin catches my eye and I quickly look away. I don't want to know what he thought of my actions. I turn round, craning my neck to watch Blaze's interview.

It takes him a while to get onto the stage. I'm guessing he was pretty shocked too. Fortunately, he manages to recover reasonably well. As he strolls onto the stage he is grinning, that wonderful grin which makes me adore him so. I can only hope the crowd won't penalise him for what I've said. Their cheers seem to be genuine enough at any rate.

Caeser is definitely pleased to see him. He even embraces him, pointing at his hair and joking that they're twins. Blaze laughs as if he's delighted by the idea, running a hand through his hair so it sticks up comically. This drives the crowd wild. I feel a growing sense of relief. He'll be fine. This is practically his element.

"Now Blaze," Caeser begins, once the crowd have settled down enough so he is actually audible, "We've just heard Taci declare her undying support for you. How does that make you feel?"

"Honestly? I'm a little sad." There is a series of disappointed gasps from the audience. Caeser widens his eyes dramatically.

"But why?"

"Because she is meant to be the victor. I mean, you only had to look at her in that needle outfit to see she has it. I'm just your regular joe. She's the special one." To my surprise, the crowd awws in delight. Blaze looks down at his feet as if embarrassed, only conjuring more sympathy.

"Ah, but that's not entirely true is it? You're the first volunteer District Eight has had in thirty years. That's pretty special." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"It felt right. I might not win this year but I can promise everyone it will be a spectacular show. And you never know, the odds may well be in my favour." He and Caeser chat for a few more minutes, speech flowing easily between them. It's almost as if they're an old comedy duo they're so good together. Blaze makes a couple of jokes about his hair and how it will make him easy target practice. Caeser then suggests he should wear his hat again, to which Blaze replies he wouldn't be caught dead in that. It's all a little forced but the crowd loves it, and when he leaves I think there's the biggest cheer yet.

I'm ready to greet him when he staggers off the stage. He looks a little sweaty, and close up I can tell he was way more nervous than he seemed. I go to hug him but he backs off, looking at me with a mixture of happiness and disappointment.

"Why did you go and say that? You've really done it now." I can tell he's trying to be angry but his voice is soft. He holds me at arm's length, pushing back a strand of my hair which has escaped the neat waves.

"I had to," I said simply, "Like you had to volunteer. Sirena was wrong-I can't be ruthless. I don't want to be."

"The other tributes will have you for breakfast now." He sighs, but I can tell my actions pleased him. I try not to think about how they might affect the way my opponents treat me. Instead I turn back to the stage, just catching the end of the District Nine girl's interview. Verbena her name is. She trembles like a rabbit in a snare under the stage lights, and when she scurries off I get to see some of that speedy movement again. She looks pretty though, her pale skin tan with makeup and her long brown hair brushed out like a silky cape. She avoids my glance as she slips past me, obviously remembering our incident in training. I feel bad about that but there's little I can do now. And if she's afraid of me at least I can be pretty sure she won't be a threat.

Halfway through the Nine boy's interview Blaze takes my hand. I squeeze it back, figuring it will be my last chance to do so. I hope he wins. It's the only thing left now really. All this other stuff has been nothing more than preparation. The real games start tomorrow-the blood and the gore and the hate. It's hard to picture it really. I try to imagine myself taking a life, picking up one of my darts and shooting someone with it. It seems possible with a faceless victim, but if I try to imagine one of the people surrounding me the image fades and becomes blurry. I certainly can't picture Blaze killing anyone. Some of the people in these games…the killing is awful but it's also majestic. It's hard not to be impressed in some sick way when you see a tribute showing real skill, turning death into an art form. I know in my heart Blaze will never be that way. I can't even see him accidentally killing someone. So what does that mean? I try to ignore the answer that pushes its way into my head.

_You can't win if you don't kill._

_I can kill for him _I tell the voice, praying that it's true. After that I lose myself in the interviews.

One tribute after another. It's difficult to pay attention. I find they start blending into each other. I notice Dax of course, dressed in another ridiculous outfit which seems to resemble fancy overalls. He doesn't do so well with the crowd, answering questions both gruffly and sarcastically. When he plods off he gives Blaze a slight smile and a nod. I guess their alliance is still on. That only makes me more uncomfortable. I distract myself by watching the District Eleven girl.

As suspected, she's the oldest at eighteen. She wears a beautiful dark green dress decorated with vines, her eyes accentuated by glittering golden eye shadow. She doesn't say much in her interview, only that she misses her home and that she's prepared to fight to return there. I just catch her name as Salvia. She barges into me on her way out, giving me the same bored look she seems to give everyone. I duly ignore her.

The District Eleven boy, Mayes, is small and adorable. I find out that he is only twelve and he certainly looks it. He captures the crowd's hearts, making them all laugh and coo in delight. I feel my own heart wrench as I watch him. Because, naturally, for Blaze to win he's going to have to die. It seems unfair but I can't let myself get distracted. Feeling affection for him will only make things harder later on.

Both the District Twelve tributes have their mediocre interviews and then it's done. The cheer at the end seems to last for hours, a fact I am very grateful for. Once it stops I have to face up to the music. As things go quiet I release Blaze's hand. This is it. This could potentially be my last night alive.

No, I can't think like that. I have to survive the first day surely? If I die in the bloodbath then I will never be able to forgive myself. I need to protect Blaze for as long as possible.

What if he dies in the bloodbath?

Finally, the bright lights go out and we are free to go. I go back to my room, removing the beautiful dress and everything that comes with it. It takes a while for me to scrub my face clean, brush out my hair, become myself again. I'm not sure if I feel better or worse now. Before I looked like someone who might be able to take care of themselves. Now I just look like the same old helpless Taci. I crawl into bed miserably.

It becomes apparent pretty quickly that I will not be able to sleep. That makes me panic (sleep is vital for surviving the games) and then of course that only prolongs my inability to drift off. I think at first I've imagined the knock on my door, but when it comes again louder I give in and go to open it. When I see Blaze standing there I hug him so tightly I'm in danger of cutting off his circulation. He gently pries me off him and then wanders over to my bed, perching on the end. We talk for hours-almost all night in fact. Not about the games. Everything but actually. Mostly we talk about our favourite memories from back home, all the times we've shared together. It feels oddly normal in such an abnormal time. Eventually, just as daylight starts to break he leaves. I'm sad to see him go but I don't try to stop him. I understand completely. This is our goodbye. One last little moment we can share before the brutality of the games. I'm glad he came though. I think I needed that.

Miraculously, I am able to doze off and manage to catch a few precious hours before daybreak. At breakfast I eat like it's going to be my last meal ever. Adora gets all teary, telling us that she'll always remember us as her favourites. I don't for one minute think that's true, but I try to act pleased for her. Even if her sorrow does mean she clearly thinks we don't have a hope in hell of winning. Sirena isn't sad. She isn't anything really. As I am about to leave she does hug me though, a gesture that both surprises and alarms me.

"You're brave Taci. You remember that. Braver than me." It's not a goodbye. It's not even a good luck. But in some weird way it helps. I half-hug her back, feeling a strange mix of emotions as I leave them for the last time.

_Today I might kill someone. Today I might die._

I echo these thoughts again and again as I go to see Auriel. I let her dress me like a zombie, not even sure whether or not she's speaking I'm paying so little attention. Her soft voice is comforting though, like peaceful background music. It's not enough to relax me though. I just keep on thinking about what might happen if I die. If Blaze dies. If both of us die. And the games will just continue, as if we never even existed. As if we don't matter.

Because we don't.

I shudder as I glance my outfit up and down. It's a strange one. Camouflage-patterned, a kind of muddy green mixed with brown. Simple boots with a grip. A very thin jacket which wouldn't keep a mouse warm. I hope that means our arena will be warm. I've had enough of the cold. If I have to die I would like it to be in the sun.

"Good luck." Auriel whispers. It takes me a minute to realize that means it's time. Before I go I feel her thread something through my hair, tying it back into a ponytail. The ribbon. My token. I'd almost forgotten about that. Slowly, I step into the tube that looks like a coffin, oblivious to everything but the blood swelling in my ears.

The countdown starts.


	13. Countdown

_10…_

A countdown. A countdown to what?

_9…_

Oh, that's right. My doom.

_8…_

The games. I wonder why they call them that? Surely 'hunt' would be a better word?

_7…_

Game sounds more fun I suppose. And I'm given to understand most districts ban hunting.

_6…_

That would be awful, to be surrounded by animals you can't hunt. At least we're allowed to shoot pigeons. Even if they taste terrible.

_5…_

We used to call Peacekeepers 'pigeons' back home. It was sort of our little joke. You get to hear quite a bit of gossip working in the factories. There's not really much else to do except for talk. I suppose we're quite lucky in that way. Sewing isn't like mining or working in a power plant-you don't have to concentrate.

_4…_

Of course, we can't say anything bad about the Capitol. Not obviously at least. A few years ago one of the mechanics came up with a code. Now whenever someone wants to complain about the Peacekeepers we use the word 'pigeon'. As in, 'there's an awful lot of pigeons hanging round today' or 'Sometimes I wish I could just shoot every stupid pigeon in this place'.

_3…_

It's quite ingenious of course because there are a lot of pigeons around. I think the Peacekeepers have started to suspect it but they can't prove it in any way. It's like our own mini attempt at rebellion. Harmless but good for a laugh.

_2…_

I suppose they'll be tons of pigeons around now, watching the screens. It's almost game time after all. I can remember the awful feeling I always got at the start of each games. Knowing I was about to see carnage.

_1…_

This year I'll be part of the carnage. Part of the bloodbath. People will be feeling bad for me.

I feel the lift ascend and my heart plummets.

The countdown has stopped.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Sorry for shortness. Should hopefully get the next chapter up soon, I apologise again for the waiting<em>


	14. Let the Games Begin

As I am lifted I feel my breath catch in my throat. My platform settles in place and then the second countdown starts. Sixty seconds. That's all I have left to think. Better start quickly then.

My fellow tributes are all surrounding me, the twenty-four of us spread out into a semi-circle. I see Blaze, staring straight ahead. To my alarm he's looking at the cornucopia. Surely he's not going to be stupid enough to aim for that? He'll be slaughtered. I watch as Dax catches his eye and they exchange a nod. I'm desperate to know what that means but I don't have time to figure it out. I need to get a handle on my surroundings.

The arena looks far bigger in person than it does on TV. This year we've been thrown into a barren landscape, dirty orange sand and hundreds of large rocks. I can see one body of water, a large lake surrounded by mud with no covering. Fantastic. That makes things a lot trickier. A few metres behind the lake is one of the queerest things I have seen in any games so far. It is a giant dirt mound, easily the size of a skyscraper back home. The whole thing is covered with numerous holes big enough to climb into, like an insect the size of a dog has burrowed its way through it. I eye it up curiously. That would be a good place to hide. But then I think of the dark and the lack of food and suddenly it doesn't seem like such a good idea.

If I turn to look behind me (very carefully so as not to blow myself sky high) I see a few hundred metres of sand and then the dark glimpse of a dense jungle. That gives me hope. There has to be food in there. But of course, I need a weapon in order to hunt. I can scavenge but I'm not sure how long I can survive on plants alone. Maybe I can backtrack later, return to see if I can get a knife or possibly even a blowgun?

Twenty seconds left.

Yes, I'll head for the jungle. Hopefully people will ignore me if I run for it. There will be far easier targets than me. But just as I am turning back I spot something else. Behind one of the large rocks is a small opening, a tiny hole just big enough for a person to hide in…

_No. It's too risky._

Now that I've spotted it though I can't get it out of my mind. If I could reach that spot and slip inside, I'd be practically invisible. Unless you knew it was there (and none of the other tributes have spotted it, I'm sure of it) it would be completely hidden by the rock. I could hide there and wait for the bloodbath to finish, the Careers to leave…

I'd have my pick of leftovers.

While I'm still thinking the countdown stops. It takes me a second too long to realize, precious time wasted. As expected, the Career tributes all head for the cornucopia. So do some of the others. Not wanting to waste any more time, I turn and head for the hole. We don't get much of a chance to run in my district and I'm not as fast as I would have liked. I reach it though, pulling myself inside so quickly I barely manage to avoid hitting my head on the rocks. Once I'm in I spin round, checking to see if I've been noticed. I can see the other tributes from inside here. Thankfully none of them are looking my way. My heart is hammering inside my chest and I feel a rush of both elation and fear. How could I be so reckless? I'm stuck here now-I will surely be noticed if I try to escape. And if they spot me I will have nowhere to run, no way to defend myself. This will either be the best thing I could have done or suicide.

Catching my breath, I turn my attention to the cornucopia. Veneer and Luster are right at the heart of it, cutting down the people closest to them and grabbing at supplies. Luster has pulled a knife out from one of the packs and she slashes gleefully at the District Seven girl, slicing her neck like it was made of butter. A little further back Murdock and Nerine are also working together. Nerine is clumsily attempting to use an axe on the two District Five tributes, which seemed to have formed their own little alliance. She misses and one of them slices her arm, but then Murdock quickly jumps to her rescue. He's managed to find a trident among the prizes. He guts them both, little emotion on his face. Nerine smiles and half-hugs him before returning to the slaughter.

I can't see either of the District Three tributes, but both from Two are there. Corin doesn't stay long. I watch as he pulls a knife and a large backpack from near the mouth of the cornucopia, carefully dodging Veneer's attacks. No alliance there then-that much wasn't faked. He stops to stab the District Ten girl before racing away, heading towards the jungle. Both Salvia and the boy from Twelve also went that way. I'm not sure what happened to Mayes or Verbena, although since I can't see them I assume they fled too. I am scanning the area to see who else I can see when suddenly I catch a glimpse of red hair.

Blaze.

I want to yell at him, scream at him to run. What is he doing? I can see Dax is with him, covering his back with some kind of sword. Blaze is running towards the heart of the cornucopia, his sights set on a large blue backpack. I watch powerless as he reaches it, scooping it up with one hand. He turns to go when suddenly Calista is there.

He hasn't seen her. He turned too late. But she's behind him, holding some sort of axe. It's smaller than the ones you usually see. A throwing axe. It takes all of my energy not to scream and give my hiding place away as she throws it with deadly precision at Blaze's head. It hurtles through the air, sure to hit its target…

I'm too far away to hear Dax speak, but I see his lips move. Suddenly Blaze turns, his eyes widening in surprise. He dodges but he's a fraction of a second too late. The axe sticks in his arm and he grimaces in pain.

I'm frozen in shock now. Blaze yanks the axe out of his arm, quickly tossing it aside. It's left a deep wound, swelling now with red liquid. He's hurt. He turns to run again and this time he makes it, him and Dax disappearing across the sand and into the jungle. Calista frowns and picks up her axe, looking very irritated indeed. She takes out her anger two seconds later on the District Twelve girl. I flinch as the axe buries itself in her neck, having to look away. If Blaze had only kept it that wouldn't have happened. Why did he throw her weapon back?

_He doesn't have a killer's mind. He doesn't think about things like that._

Trembling slightly, I retreat into my hole. The bloodbath is almost over now. It's hard to count the dead but there seems to be less than previous years. Not as many Careers working together to take them down. Calista has also fled after picking up a reasonable haul, leaving only the District One and Four tributes. For a second there is hostility between them. Then they seem to relax and I realize that they at least are working together. They begin to sort through the supplies they have gathered, splitting up food and weapons. It takes them longer than expected. Normally you don't get to see this bit. The camera focuses on the survivors, showing their escape and showing off the arena. I wonder what the audience will think of me hiding? Will they think I'm a coward? Heartless for not helping Blaze or smart for not giving my position away? I hug my knees to my chest miserably, watching the Careers. Praying they don't find me.

Veneer gets the lion's share, picking up a huge spear and a backpack large enough to hold a week's supply of food. Luster handpicks several knives, almost as if she was out buying clothes or whatever they buy in her district. Murdock keeps a tight hold of his trident, also taking a knife or two. Nerine is the most puzzling-she only picks up a simple sword and a large net. They start talking as they dish things out, probably discussing strategies. I try to listen but I'm too far away. My legs start to cramp up and I begin to think this was a terrible idea.

I panic as the Careers vanish from view. I panic even more when Luster appears a minute later. She's about three metres from my cave, idly playing with one of her new knives.

"Shouldn't we be hunting them down now? They'll only be getting further away."

"Agreed." Veneer nods, stepping up next to her. He's looking almost right at the rock which is hiding me. If he takes a few steps to the left he'll probably be able to see me. I swallow nervously, well aware that the cameras will be on me now. Ready to get a close up of my death.

_Steady…_

"We should get more water first," Murdock argues. Despite the fact they are allies there is still a clear division between him and Nerine and Veneer and Luster, "I doubt there will be any water source as good as this lake, and if we're going to be travelling we don't want to dehydrate."

"Leave it to fish boy to think of water." Veneer smirks, and Luster laughs like it's the funniest joke she's ever heard. Murdock only scowls. Somehow I don't think this alliance will last long.

"I'm right."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Come on then." They head for the direction of the lake, disappearing from view again. I relax for a little while, stiffening when they come back. They have their packs on their backs now, massive ones which dwarf whatever Blaze picked up. There's one awful moment where Nerine suggests they search the rocks, but thankfully they dismiss her.

"No one would be stupid enough to hide here. Let's go." They head off towards the jungle, weapons drawn and at the ready. I start to smile as I watch them go. I did it! It worked! Thrilled, I force myself to wait at least five minutes before crawling out. My outfit is covered in mud but I don't care.

Most of the supplies are still here.

Of course. That's the one thing about the games-the start is usually predictable. The Careers stay and get the supplies. Other people who stay die. And the rest of the tributes run away, trying to get as much distance between them as possible. They wouldn't think anyone would be close enough to get their supplies for a few days at least. No reason for them to protect them now then.

Dusting myself off, I head hesitantly towards the cornucopia. I won't be able to hide there twice, that's for sure. When they return they might well search the rocks and besides, the hole is far too small to sleep in comfortably. Not that I'll be able to sleep comfortably at all while I'm here.

Everything is eerily quiet now. I walk for quite a bit until I reach the first body. I almost crash into it in my haste. I glance down, not wanting to look but being unable to ignore it. It's the District Five girl. The one I barely paid attention to. Her eyes are open, stunned. I look away, knowing that her gaze might haunt me forever now.

The closer you get to the cornucopia, the redder the sand becomes. I avoid the bodies, focusing all my energy on getting the best supplies. I don't know how long I've got but I don't want to linger. I pick up one of the largest backpacks, grab a knife or two and make sure I have a drinking flask. In the end I pick up three just to make sure, filling them up at the large lake. I'm not entirely sure it's safe but the odds are the water from there will be fine to drink. I've just finished filling up the second one when I spot something else in the pile.

A blowgun!

Utterly thrilled, I practically dance over. It's a small blowgun, almost identical to the one I practised with. Next to it is a bag of shiny needles, each one ending in a deadly point. My hand has just begun to close around them when I feel someone's fingers grip my shirt. They yank me back sharply, away from my weapon. I barely have time to panic when I feel the razor blade at my throat.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Yep, I'm still writing albiet slowly. Sorry about the wait. Keep those reviews coming and thanks again to the people who have reviewed. It's really helpful to know I have an audience who actually wants to read more and feedback is always great<em>


	15. Survival

"That was smart Eight. I'll give you that." I struggle uselessly against the arm, which has looped itself round my neck in a chokehold. The voice is female, unfamiliar. There's a smirking quality which only makes me panic more. I feel the blade start to dig into my skin and I lose it completely. Kicking out, I strike it lucky and manage to hit her shin. She wasn't expecting that. She cries out, loosening her grip in the process. I slip free, turning round as quickly as I can to see my attacker. It's the District Three girl, covered in mud and glaring at me with a look fit to kill. I realise she must have been lurking in the dirt mound. Her grip tightens on the knife and it strikes me that I'm still in very real danger. Keeping a firm grip on the backpack, I make a decision very quickly that I cannot fight her. Instead I turn and start running towards the jungle, hearing her yell after me.

Something whizzes past my ear, and I watch as the knife barely misses me. I'm about halfway towards the jungle when I remember the blowgun. I need that! Without it I won't last two seconds. Weighing up the odds, I find myself stopping. Before I can talk myself out of it I pick up the knife Tesla threw and spin round, hurtling it back at her. It's a clumsy miss but it catches her off guard. Clearly she had decided to let me go, not yet bothering to pull out another knife from her bag. She starts to reach for one now though and I know I have to act quickly. Not really sure what else I can do, I begin to run towards her, sprinting as fast as I can. I see her hand clench around the knife and squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I won't be able to get away in time. But my charge must have surprised her because when I open them again she has faltered-only for a split second but that's long enough. By the time I reach her I'm going too fast to do anything but crash into her.

"Oof!" I think it hurts me more than it does her. She's built like a brick wall, but somehow I catch her with enough force to send her flying back. She staggers, almost regains her balance…then goes sprawling backwards, landing into the lake with an almighty splash. I don't waste time seeing if she's okay. Instead I grab the blowgun and the darts, stuff them hurriedly into my bag and begin sprinting once more towards the jungle. Tesla is splashing about furiously, shouting things with such anger that I can't even make out the words. I run as fast as I can, unable to believe I've survived. I don't stop until I reach the dark greenery of the trees, and even then I continue for a minute or so.

I have to stop once the forest gets thicker. I'm not used to such surroundings, and what with so many other tributes lurking around I'd prefer to be cautious. I can see no sign of Tesla, but I circle around for a bit anyway just in case. Finally I dare to stop, slumping against a broad tree with thick, spiky bark. I'm aware that my breathing is far too loud, coming out in raggedy gasps after my run. I try to calm it, breathing as deeply and as quietly as I can. Then, taking off my backpack, I inspect my hoard. Not too bad-two knives, three flasks (but only two filled sadly) a packet of dried fruit, some shrivelled up meat which looks unfamiliar, a sleeping bag which is sturdy enough and, of course, my blowgun and darts. I'm about to put everything back when suddenly I spot something else, tucked away in the lining. I yank it out, examining it carefully. It's a small black torch, fairly light and not likely to get in the way. I think using it would be a big mistake at night time but I keep hold of it anyway. It doesn't weigh much and I'd like to get as many supplies as I can.

Having sorted out my stash, I now look more closely at my surroundings. The jungle frightens me a little-after all, it's the exact opposite of the city. The humid air is sweltering and I quickly remove my jacket, shoving it into the backpack hastily. It's hard to see anything through the various plant life surrounding me. I think back to my (brief) training, trying to see what I can remember. Most of the things around are unfamiliar though so I give up quickly. My breathing has slowed now and I feel much more comfortable without the jacket. My mouth is dry from all the running but I only risk taking the smallest sip. In the games the only thing more precious than water is your life.

I'm uncertain what to do now. I hate staying still but I can't help thinking it could be just as dangerous to wander. I want to avoid the lake at all costs, so I begin to slowly trek in the opposite direction to my footprints. Footprints. I stare at them in horror. The ground is damp here, like a peaty bog. My boots have left a neat little trail of tracks and it's impossible to tell how far they go back. I know those tracks could mean my doom though. For a second I consider removing my boots, but if my feet get muddy there will be no way to wash them, and who knows what kind of diseases I could pick up? No, I will simply have to be more careful. I start to move again, treading as lightly as I can. I still leave prints of course, but by cutting across grass and bushes my tracks are not quite as obvious as before.

One thing I can take comfort in I suppose-there's no denying this arena is beautiful. I've never seen so many plants in my life, let alone in one area. The air smells so fresh and clean it's startling. It feels odd to take a breath and not have it tainted by the scent of smoke or dirt. It's almost making me light-headed.

A few steps on I realize I'm bleeding. It's only a minor wound, a slight nick from when Tesla had that knife against my throat. It disturbs me though, to see my blood dripping so clear and red. It reminds me that I'm vunerable. I make a mental note to be even more careful, gently wiping at the cut until my sleeve stops coming back red.

Soon enough I reach an area which is filled with flowers. Every vine, bush and blade of grass is decorated with them. I spend a while admiring them, ecstatic when I realize I recognize a couple. One particularly divine bud I remember as being deadly. It's bright red in colour and the thick nectar oozing from its centre almost looks inviting. I steer clear of that one, instead wading into a large group of white flowers. It's here I choose to rest. The ground is less boggy here and I can sit down without fear of getting muddy. I dislike relaxing but walking endlessly will only tire me out and potentially get me into trouble. At least here it is quiet enough for me to hear any tributes coming. Not that I would have a clue what to do if they did come.

I stay there until the sky begins to darken, safe and lonely in my den of flowers. That's another thing that's beautiful here-I get to watch the sunset. Normally we work so late in the factory that we miss it on all but the longest of summer days. Once Blaze and I snuck out early to see it, but my mother caught us. She was so worried she banned me from ever seeing him again. It only lasted three days. She always liked Blaze. He made her laugh and let's face it, she almost never laughed.

Blaze…where is he now? Safe hopefully. I hate that I can't give him advice. I keep on thinking that he's going to make some stupid mistake which will get him killed. A mistake I could have prevented if I'd teamed up with him. No, Blaze will be fine. He can be absentminded sometimes but not about stuff like this. Surely he wouldn't forget something which could save his own life?

The anthem interrupts my thoughts. I sit up straighter, craning my neck to see the dead tributes. A shiver goes down my spine as the show begins.

The girl from District Five flashes up first. That means a full house of Careers is still alive. The boy appears next, and I feel guilty that I overlooked them so much. A part of me though, a part which I'm certain didn't exist until I arrived here, can't help pointing out that I was right to ignore them. He vanishes and the girl from Seven is projected. Then the girl from Ten and, to my surprise, the girl from Twelve as well. Then the sky goes dark and the people from the Capitol forget about those first tributes forever. I nestle deeper in my flowers, thinking how awful it must be for the families of those tributes. They weren't even alive long enough to leave anything but a bloodstain.

Five deaths. Less than most years, I think optimistically. On the downside that means the gamemakers will probably want to shake things up a bit. Can't have an interesting show if there's not enough blood, can you?

I'm not sure whether it's the weather or the projection, but suddenly I feel like ice. I unzip my bag and shove on my jacket, taking another tiny sip of water as I do so. Thank goodness I didn't see Blaze's face tonight. He made it through the bloodbath, even if he was stupid enough to get himself injured. His odds will go right down now. I can practically hear Sirena screaming at him.

I have a nice little nest among the flowers, and since I can't climb trees I decide I might as well sleep here. I dig out my sleeping bag, wriggling down as low as I can. It's hard to tell but I'm pretty sure the flowers hide me. I make sure to keep hold of my knife anyway just in case.

Sleep does not come easy. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to switch my brain off. I keep thinking about what everyone else is doing. Will the Careers be hunting now or sleeping? Probably sleeping. Maybe even out in the open, without any fear. Mind you, they still have the District Two and Three tributes to contend with. I can personally testify that Tesla is terrifying, and Calista seems just as formidable. Corin…I hesitate when I come to him. I remember how he seemed to lack that natural arrogance that usually makes Careers such good killers. But then I think of how quickly, how casually almost he killed the Ten girl. Yes, I think he might be just as dangerous as the others. Maybe more so.

He fled to the jungle. So did most people as a matter of fact. Where are they all? At least this area is massive. One year the whole arena was a bare desert and not a big one at that. That was horrible. The games only lasted four days. There was nowhere to hide and only one source of water. The lucky ones were slaughtered on the first day. The rest dehydrated slowly.

Eventually I drift off, but it's an uneasy sleep. Every hour or so I awaken, frantically checking that I am both alone and still have my knife. I don't remember any dreams, which I suspect is a good thing. I think the District Five girl might feature prominently in them if I did. It is only when the sky begins to lighten again that I give up on sleep completely. I'm just starting to get up when I hear a sound.

The gentle sound of crushed grass is terrifying. The footsteps are splodgy, uneven. Clearly someone trekked through the mud like me. Maybe after me. Did I hide my footprints well enough? Perhaps not. I freeze up in fear, praying that the flowers hide me. Then, in case I might have to fight, I slowly begin freeing myself from my sleeping bag.

It isn't an easy manoeuvre. The fabric is warm but scratchy, and no matter how slowly I go I can't help making a little bit of noise. Meanwhile the sound of footsteps is getting louder. It sounds like the person is right by my head. I struggle urgently, managing to free my arms and then finally my legs. I fall out on the ground, freezing again and praying I haven't made any noise. The footsteps have stopped now, worrying me. I stay still for three minutes, what feels like the longest three minutes of my life. There's still no movement from whoever is by me, so very slowly I raise up my head. I don't dare come out completely-I'm still hoping to avoid a confrontation with them, no matter how unlikely that seems. Thankfully I can see they have their back turned to me. I note the floppy brown hair. A male. He doesn't look familiar to me. Then he turns his head slightly and I realize it's the District Twelve boy.

I suppose I should be glad it's him and not someone more formidable, but I still don't relax. What is he doing? He seems to just be looking at the flowers, like I was a few hours back. Let's hope he doesn't examine the ones I'm in. He hasn't noticed me yet. I crawl along, leaving my supplies where they are and hoping I'll get the chance to get back to them. The only thing I keep hold of is my knife. It feels odd in my hand, out of place. My fingers keep shaking, making it difficult to grip. I stare at it in wonder. Am I planning to stab him? I suppose I am. It would be pretty easy actually. I'm almost right behind him now. All I would need to do was close the distance (about two metres, no more than that) and then…then…

I can picture myself doing it. I even suspect I would be able to do it, if I could only bring myself to stand up. But for some reason I'm still rooted to the spot, knife useless in my hand. I should be acting quickly. If he turns now he might just catch a glimpse of me, and then it will only be that much harder to kill him. Both technically and morally. Because I would have seen his eyes then and I can't help thinking that if I see those my determination will falter. And then I'll be a sitting target.

No, I have to do it now. Three…two…one…

I am poised, ready to jump up when something stops me. He moves slightly to the right, still walking along idly. He's looking at the flowers with a kind of awe. I suspect that's how I looked when I did the same. District Twelve-I can't be sure but I doubt there's many plants there either. I suddenly feel an odd sense of empathy with this boy, this complete stranger. I lower my hand, relax my pose. I can't do it. The realization is crushing.

I'm thinking then I might as well stab myself and get it over with when I notice what the boy is heading for. The string of red flowers-the ones which are poisonous. Worse than poisonous. They shoot out nectar if anyone touches them, nectar which can burn your flesh off. And he's heading right for them.

Every instinct is screaming at me to warn him. I ignore them. This isn't the same as stabbing someone. If I wasn't here then he'd be heading for those flowers just the same. Stopping him is only stupid. He's just one more person who can hurt Blaze. Still, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to yell out as his hand gently strokes a petal. My eyes squeeze shut as the nectar squirts.

"Argh!" It's a horrible cry, one which forces my eyes open again. He's spun round again, facing me now. There's no danger of him seeing me though. His face and arms are covered in the thick nectar, making him look like he's been wading through honey. He's screaming still and to my horror I see his mouth is filling up too. Then the burning starts. I don't want to watch but I can't look away. It's the same reason I despise watching the games and yet rarely close my eyes. You have to watch. It's impossible to look away from something this horrifying.

His skin which was olive in shade is now almost bright red. I can see the chunks of his skin being eaten away, the awful pinkness of the flesh underneath. His eyes are the worst. He is clawing at them, trying to wipe off the nectar but only getting more in them. He collapses to the ground, his shrieks getting quieter. After a minute or so they die completely.

It's only when it's over that I realize I'm shaking. Somewhere deep inside the sensible part of me speaks up. It tells me to run, that his screams will attract attention and I should get away from here. Yet again I am unable to move. The only thing I do is stand, rising up and out of the flowers. I can see his body better now. I wish I couldn't. Thankfully he landed face down. The sight of his arms is bad enough.

Swallowing, I force myself to turn around. It's easier when I have my back to him. I can pretend to forget what his body looks like, how his skin peeled away like strips of material. I can forget him.

That's what I tell myself anyway. I can't help feeling that it is a lie.

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><p><em>Author's Note: I am so sorry about the long delay! My exams are going to be over in about two weeks and then I'll promise I go back to almost daily updates so just bear with me :) Hope you liked this chapter and as always, big thanks to reviewers<em>


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